


You can't protect me

by Lansfics7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Hurt, Hurt Scott, Hurt Stiles, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Oblivious Scott, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Post-Allison's Death, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lansfics7/pseuds/Lansfics7
Summary: Stiles is kicked out of the pack. Turns out it's a false alarm when everyone tries convince him to rejoin, claiming they did it to protect him. When he leaves to learn more about his spark and vows to leave Beacon Hills to figure things out, that's when he's needed most. Stiles has to chose between staying with his comfortable life, or helping his old friends.(I don’t own TW)





	1. Three Strikes, You're Out

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is kicked out of the pack, but Scott and a few of the other members don't seem to happy about it.

“What?” Stiles says, forcing a grin on his face, “Is this some kind of joke?”  
“Get out. You don’t belong here,” Derek says coldly.  
Stiles takes a shaky breath as his lungs close up and he shakes his head and stutters, “Of course I belong here, I’m pack.” Stiles licks his lips. He can’t hide the fear in his voice, “What the heck are you saying?”  
“He’s saying we’re kicking you out,” Boyd says from across the room. His expression is emotionless, cold, blank. Most of their gazes are.  
Stiles feels his heart sink and he forces a laugh, “Come on guys, april fools was last week-”  
“Not everything’s a joke Stilinski,” Erica raises her eyebrows at him.  
Derek speaks in a heartless tone, “You’re no longer welcome here.” The wolf crosses his arms.  
Stiles can’t say anything. His lungs don’t work. He feels like he just died on the spot. Tears come to his eyes but Stiles furiously pushes them back. He will not break in front of them. This can’t be happening. But it was.

He looks around at his friends. Lydia won’t make eye contact with him; he thinks she’s crying. Isaac is just as bad, whimpering on the step with his legs curled up to his chest. His hands are gripping his jean legs so tight Stiles is afraid they might rip. His gaze says I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Erica’s eyes are narrowed and she’s watching him carefully. She also has the nerve to drum her fingers on the chair she’s sitting in. She isn’t even on tempo. Jackson is avoiding eye contact as well, with a blank expression plastered on his stupid face, his gaze wandering everywhere but Stiles. Malia is sitting next to Scott silently, pulling her hands and pursing her lips. And Scott- Scott. Stiles sucks in a breath. Scott...his best friend, his brother.  
“Scott what’s going on?” Stiles pleads, his voice breaking as he looks to his only ally for help. Stiles holds his breath as he waits for assurance that this is all just a prank. He doesn’t get it.  
Scott has his head in his hands. Stiles barely hears his rough voice command, “Just go.”  
Stiles stumbles like he’s been stabbed, “Scott.” He feels a lump in his throat forming and a knot in his stomach that makes him want to throw up.  
“Go!” Derek roars. Stiles looks to Derek, looks in his eyes for any faint glimpse of emotion but sees none. Nothing. Just a cold stare.  
So many emotions are swirling through Stiles’ mind right now. Shock, confusion, anger, worry, sadness, guilt, grief, pain…”Why?” Stiles asks softly. It’s a weak question but he needs an answer. He’s afraid he already knows one of them. Because he’s human.  
“Because you’re human and weak.” Derek says truthfully.  
Stiles almost breaks. Almost. He forces himself to keep it all in and waits because Derek isn’t done.  
“And now with the Nogitsune possessing you-”  
“It’s gone!” Stiles protests, nodding vigorously.  
“Yeah and so’s Allison!” A cry comes from behind him and Stiles tenses, choking on nothing. Stiles doesn’t know who said that, but his hands start shaking. He’s spent weeks trying to convince himself that her death wasn’t his fault, but now he feels all his progress is reset. The light flickers above them. Stiles doesn’t know if he did that or not, but his glare doesn’t help his cause.  
“You’re a threat to my pack’s safety and Scott’s. You’re a dead weight,” Derek says calmly, like he’d been practicing it. Which they probably have.  
No, that can’t be true. Even for Derek, that’s cold. Stiles’ broken heart grasps for hope. Stiles looks to Derek, “But-”  
“Save it Stiles. We don’t want you. You’re a burden. You need to leave.”  
It’s his worst nightmares coming true and Stiles is helpless. He shakes his head, “You can’t do this,” Stiles whispers weakly, daring to look Derek in the eyes. He straightens, his anger getting the better of him. He knows if he had colorful eyes they would be glowing bright right now. But he doesn’t. So he glares through his human ones and the Alpha’s eyes show a little admiration for his boldness.  
“You can’t.” He says again, louder this time. But Derek is obviously taller and a lot bigger and he shoots him down immediately.  
He steps up to Stiles, making him seem small but Stiles doesn’t flinch or shrink away. Derek looks down at Stiles and speaks clearly and harshly, “I can and I am. None of them will speak to you again.” Derek’s eyes flash red as if signifying the command. Isaac sniffs at that, and he blinks the yellow glow out of his eyes like he’s ashamed to have them.  
“Derek, Scott, Lyds, guys please-” Stiles begs with them. Then he turns on Derek angrilly, opening his mouth to speak. Nd he’s going to let it all rip, remind them of all the times that he’s saved their butts and why they need him and how he’ll never forgive them and how cruel they’re being and a lot of mean stuff that will surely make them see their mistake. Stiles barely gets one syllable out before Derek grabs his shirt and practically drags him to the door despite his shouts of protest. Stiles punches him in the arm, yelling in anger but he’s already been released. Derek drops him, hard, on the deck outside and Stiles feels a bent nail rip up his forearm as it scrapes his skin. He hisses in pain and scrambles back on his elbows. He looks up at Derek in horror, grief, anguish, pain, sadness, and pure fury. Stiles gets to his feet, holding the bleeding cut. Derek’s cold stare breaks for a minute and it looks like he flinches, but Stiles can’t tell, and he doesn’t care. 

Stiles picks up his composure and slowly turns around. His pack is still frozen in their spots inside and Stiles can feel all of their eyes watching him. Stiles walks down the steps of the Hale house and reaches into his pocket with trembling hands. He grabs his keys and opens the door to his Jeep, biting his lip hard. Stiles gets in almost in a panic and slams the door shut, having a hard time breathing. His head is spinning but he manages to put on his seatbelt. He shoves the key in the ignition with too much force and turns it, almost breaking the key off. Stiles yanks the stick into reverse and backs out of the driveway. Derek is watching him from the door, he can see out of the corner of his eye. A lone tear escapes and it itches as it falls down the side of his cheek but Stiles doesn’t wipe it until he’s around the corner. They don’t get to see him cry. He may be out of sight now, but he knows they can still hear him so he doesn’t say anything. He just breaths deep, shuddering breaths, blinking back salt and water and gulping down the sobs that are building up. His knuckles turn white from his grip on the steering wheel. He’s holding everything in as hard as he can, stacking stones up against the shuddering dam as fast as he can to stop it from shattering. Stiles makes sure he’s at least 3 blocks away before he yanks the car over to the side of the road, breaks down on the steering wheel, and lets the tears fall.

Lydia is still crying. Isaac bolted and ran out of the house the minute he heard Stiles’ jeep leave. Malia is wringing her hands hard. Stiles was always there for her. He was the one who helped her learn to shift, a werecoyote’s version of an anchor. Yet she too had agreed to go along with the plan. Jackson doesn’t look that phased, but Scott senses a little guilt. Erica is the same. Boyd is a puzzle, and Scott can’t tell if he actually had the attitude his words assumed for him when he snapped at Stiles.  
And Scott...Scott feels awful. He wants to throw up. His brother looked at him for help, his last hope, his ally, his best friend...and Scott turned him away. He was forced to watch as Stiles’ took a verbal beating as Derek lied to him about reasons for kicking him out and criticized him like heck. Stiles’ expression with each blow shattered his heart into more pieces and now every breath Scott took burned. He hurt for so many reasons. He feels awful. And pissed at Erica for blurting out that Allison’s death was Stiles’ fault. That was a little much.  
And Derek. That’s when Scott stands up, his anger getting the better of him, his eyes flashing red and he storms over to Derek, who had collapsed against the door the minute Stiles was out of sight.  
“Why did you have to drag him out?!” Scott demanded, forcing away tears.  
Derek looked up at him with sad eyes, “If he had said what he was going to say our plan would have been ruined. I would have hugged him and apologized and we would have all gone rogue. You would have broke. We all would have. And you know that.”  
Scott slammed his hand against the door frame, “This was the wrong thing to do.”  
“He needs to stay away from us,” Derek says, getting to his feet.  
“It won’t be that bad. Stiles is human. He got hurt a lot. He was in danger all the time. We had to save him and risk our lives. Maybe it’s better this way.” That was Erica. Boyd’s expression meant he agreed with her.  
Jackson nodded, “He was always annoying and sarcastic. Sure he helped with research and planning and looking up stuff, but we have Lydia.”  
Lydia is on her feet, eyes blazing, “You disgust me. This was a horrible idea. None of you should be ok with this. The only reason I agreed to play along is because of his safety. This is for his own good remember? He’s human! And what we’re about to face, is worse than anything we have before. We’re saving him, for once. He’s saved all of us. He saved me on the lacrosse field with Peter, saved me from a bear trap, and from Eichen house. Malia, he sacrificed himself for you in Eichen’s basement when the Nogitsune possessed him. He was willing to die to save all of us in the garden. Derek, he held you above water in that pool for hours. And Scott he’s saved your life many times...He’s your brother, he’s helped you through it all. Erica and Boyd,” Lydia’s voice breaks, “he was there too in a basement remember? And unlike you his wounds didn’t heal the minute he walked out. He saved both of you. He’s saved all of our butts at least one.” She then glares at Derek, “Our plan was to say he’s out of the pack and leave him alone until this was over. You’ve made sure he’ll never come back.”  
Derek hangs his head as if he knows she’s right. Even Scott’s heart sinks. Stiles won’t forgive them easily, or at all.  
Now Lydia’s glaring at Scott, Boyd, and Erica, “We weren’t supposed to say anything but you all have to but in and practically stab him straight in the heart! Every one of you!”  
Scott feels like he’s been slapped by the redhead’s burst, but Lydia’s not done.  
“I’m sick and tired of just agreeing to everything, but unfortunately, I’m in this one and I can’t back out, thanks a lot. So if we’re going to do this, then we have to stick to it. You’ve hurt him enough, don’t let him get hurt by our enemies.” Lydia sits down, clearly still fuming and furious, and there’s silence.  
It’s Derek who breaks it, “We can’t back out now. We’ve gotten Stiles out, we need him out. I don’t rebuke my command of staying away from him. Don’t engage, be cold, whatever, but he’s not our friend.”  
“Of course he’s our friend!” Malia shouts, “That’s why we did this!”  
‘But he can’t know that.” Derek growls and Malia backs down, “And no one is to tell him that we are doing this for that reason. If we do, he’ll want back in and be in serious danger. When the Fenrir come in a week, they can’t know about him. And if they see us talking to him or anything they will and they won’t hesitate to kill him. That’s the only reason why my order still stands. Is that clear?”  
Sadly everyone shakes their heads.  
Scott stands up, his red eye glowing, “And if anyone even shows one sign about being happy about this, I will personally deal with you. Understood?” The teens know who they are. Scott bares his teeth and asks again, “Understood?!”  
The singled out ones nod.  
Derek lets out an exhausted sigh, “I think this pack meeting is over then. Someone go find Isaac and update him on all of this.”  
Scott sinks into the couch, head in his hands. He can’t help but look at Stiles’ empty spot. Malia rubs his back soothingly and Scott bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. Lydia comes over and sits on the opposite side of him, hand on his knee.  
“You know we’re protecting him,” Malia whispers, as if she’s reassuring herself.  
Scott nods slowly, “But the damage... If we make it through this, he won’t want to come back.” Scott is so scared he’s lost his best friend. His brother. He can’t lose Stiles. But he feels like he has.  
“At least he’ll be alive though,” Malia says, wiping a small tear with her fist. Scott hasn’t seen her cry before. Lydia gets up and walks out, and then Malia. Scott realizes Derek is right. It’s already hurt so much, but in order to make all of that worth it, they have to continue with the plan. Not talking to, ignoring, and being cold to his best friend is something Scott hates, but knows has to be done. He can’t let his best friend get hurt again. Not because of him. He realizes he’s alone in the room and slowly gets up. There’s complete silence. Scott is left with half a heart, already missing his best friend.


	2. Please leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is perfect. And no can keep everything in. Stiles arrives home and breaks, but he knows he'll have to face his old pack mates at school. Luckily there is one friend who has his back.

Stiles pulls into his driveway and gets out of his car, still feeling tears on his cheeks. His dad isn’t home yet; his car isn’t here. Stiles rushes into the house and runs upstairs, practically collapsing against his dresser. His head is spinning, his eyesight blurry with tears. He stumbles into the corner and sinks down to the floor, head in his hands, feeling the sobs come up again. He sits there for a long time, just shaking and trying to gulp down a familiar feeling of a panic attack. Stiles has his arms wrapped around himself, yet he has never felt more alone and empty. After a while, he raises his tear-blurred gaze and sees a picture of his pack and him at Hale House, all sitting on the same sofas he just was kicked off. In anger he scrambles to his feet, ignoring the roar in his head and the rush of dread that makes his stomach churn. Stiles runs over, stubbing his toe on the corner of his desk but he can barely register the pain. In a flash, he grabs the picture and throws it on the floor. It doesn’t break in as many pieces as he wants it to. Stiles grabs the largest piece of glass and hits it against the ground again and rips the photograph sideways now. Again and again and again he repeats this, his angry tears sprinkling the floor.   
He doesn’t stop when he hears his dad pull into the driveway.   
He doesn’t stop when he hears him yell his name, or pound up the stairs.   
He finally does stop when his father lunges into his room and sees his son, breathing hard, his shoulders heaving, with bloodshot, wide, and angry eyes. He sees his son shattered and broken, in a pile of glass and remains of a picture that Stiles kept on his dresser since it was given to him. A treasure that, before today, Stiles would have never have let the frame get even the slightest scratch. Stiles’ hands are cut from the glass and shaking, trembling as they hover over the mess he made in his grief. Noah grabs Stiles by the waist and hauls him up, wrapping his arms around him. Stiles hugs his dad hard, not wanting to let go. His father, the one thing he has left, the only person he can trust wouldn’t leave him like his friends did.   
“Stiles…” His dad’s voice breaks, “what are you doing? What happened?”  
Through gasps Stiles makes out, “They kicked me out dad. They kicked me out of the pack.”  
Stiles buries his face into his dad’s neck and closes his eyes, but even that doesn’t stop the tears.   
“Oh God…” Noah says softly, hugging him tighter.  
“I don’t know what to do,” Stiles sobs, “I don’t know what to do…”

At dinner Stiles barely eats. He told his dad everything that had happened at the Hale House, word for word, which seems hard at first until he realizes it isn’t; he’s had the conversation playing in his head for the last 3 hours. It’s deafening and Stiles can barely hear over the noise.   
They cleaned up the glass and ripped pieces of the picture and Stiles washed off the blood on his hand. Stiles proceeded to take every book he had purchased on the supernatural, every picture he owned of him and any or all of the pack mates, everything that was affiliated to the pack, anything they gave him- everything that reminded him of his old friends in the very slightest he shoved in a box. His dad promised he threw it all away but as Stiles passed the closet, he saw the coats had been slightly moved around. His dad probably hid all of his stuff in a box, despite his agreement, but Stiles wasn’t about to call him out. He knew his dad did it for the right reason anyway- probably to allow the memories a chance to resurface into Stiles’ life… if things got better. Stiles hoped he was right, but in the back of his mind, fear and dread ate slowly away at his wish.   
“Can I switch schools?” Stiles says miserably. He means it.  
“The closet one is 30 miles away Stiles,” his dad looked at him painfully. “You can’t run away from this.”  
“So that’s a no?” Stiles grumbles.  
His father smirks, “It’s a no.” He grabs his son’s arm and looks him in the eye, “Stiles you’re the strongest boy I know. You can get through this, You’re resilient and witty and brave.” He ruffles Stiles’ hair and watches his expression, hoping for a smile. It’s exactly the opposite.  
“If I’m so strong, then why did they kick me out?” Stiles snaps, pushing his plate back angrily. He apologizes to his dad immediately after, holding back tears, “I’m sorry dad.”   
Then he gets up, moving his chair back, “I’m not that hungry, I think I’ll go to bed. I’m so sorry for...everything. And thanks dad. I love you.”  
His dad stands and gives him a hug, “I love you too Stiles.”  
Stiles trudges upstairs and brushes his teeth. His stomach feels empty, but he feels like he’ll throw up if he eats anything else. Stiles splashes water onto his face and leans heavily against the sink, his clenched hands trembling. It’s an awful feeling when everything you have just gets taken away from you in a split second, not to mention the hits he took. He’s changing the saying: sticks and stones break my bones and words hurt like crap. Stiles looks up from the sink and sees himself in the mirror. He winces at his puffy eyes and tear-stained, tired face.   
Water trickles down his cheeks but he doesn’t use a towel to wipe any so he can’t tell what’s tears and what’s water. He drags himself into his room and crawls into bed. Laying there, with a lump in his throat, he’s cold, and in shock. The tears have stopped for a little bit; it seems being dehydrated is the reason. Stiles feels so empty and scared. There’s something missing inside of him. And in his room. Wow. Half of his stuff is gone and he realizes what a huge part of his life his pack was. That just makes him angrier. Stiles doesn’t remember a time when he’s been more pissed. These people, his friends, his best friend Scott, they were supposed to be there for him. Pack is supposed to be family. He risked his life for every single one, he took a beating for every single one at separate occasions, and they threw him out without a thought- kicked him out on the street corner and he bets they don’t even feel guilty. Anger boils in his hot chest and that just makes him sadder. He cries himself asleep that night, with tears that decide to reappear. And he doesn’t even care that it’s childish.

Stiles sleeps after 3 hours of laying awake. Sleep isn’t much better; he’s immediately engulfed in nightmares when he exhausts himself into slumber. First it was the replay of the pack kicking him out, but as if that wasn’t enough, it soon turned into dreams of his pack betraying him, saying hurtful things about him, even beating him up. Stiles awoke at that, bolting upright with a cry, and found it was 5 in the morning. He lay awake, stuffing his head in his pillow. He couldn’t go back to sleep. It was 7 when his dad came in to wake him up. He was already leaning against the wall with his legs tight against his chest and his chin resting on his knees.  
“I don’t feel like going to school today dad.” Stiles said, falling sideways into his bed, his voice muffled by the pillow.  
His dad sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, “You’re not letting them ruin your life Stiles. I won’t let you.”  
Too late, Stiles thought.  
“Look, are you mad at them?” His dad asked.  
Stiles looked up sarcastically, “No as you can see, I’m thrilled.”  
Apparently his dad had expected the sarcasm, “Exactly. So they’re expecting you to stay home. You want to piss them off? Go to school. It will be harsh, but you can take it.”  
After a minute of contemplating, Stiles nodded and sat up. He felt like crap and he was still on the verge of tears but he mustered enough energy to get to his feet. There was still something missing in his heart. Stiles shoved on a sweatshirt and jeans and punted his sneakers down the steps. They skidded to a stop by the door and he follows them, feeling like he’s been kicked down the stairs as well. Shoving his books and a granola bar into his backpack, he walks across the room to key rack in the kitchen. He decides on skipping breakfast; he didn’t feel like eating anyway and grabs his keys to his jeep that were dangling from the far hook. He shoves on his limp shoes and meets his dad at the door. His father handed him a banana on the way out. Stiles gave him a look and didn’t move to grab it.  
Noah raised his eyebrows, “Hey, if you’re making me eat healthy, the least you can do is eat in the first place.”  
Stiles groaned but took the banana and hopped in the front seat of his car. His father put a hand on his arm through the window, “If you can’t take it, just come home. We’ll take this nice and slow. Ok?”  
Stiles gave him a fake weak smile, but it was convincing enough because his dad nodded.  
“I love you Stiles,” his father said.  
“Love you too dad,” Stiles turned the keys in the ignition with shaking hands. The last time he was in the jeep was when…  
He could do this. Stiles took a deep breath and shouted out the window, “Don’t let me run you over!”  
His father moved out of the way and waved. Stiles drove away, on the verge of breaking down, but not quite, toward the worst day of school ever. 

On the way there, Stiles tries to think positive. It’s hard work, but he comes up with a few theories to keep the little sliver of hope he has left shining. Without Derek there, maybe the pack would still talk to him, despite the order. Scott had his own pack so the command wouldn’t affect them as much as it would Erica and Boyd (but who cares really?) and Isaac. Poor Isaac. Stiles remembered his gaze when he locked eyes with him. He figured Isaac had no say in it anyway.  
Scott though...Scott was the one who Stiles felt most betrayed by in his circle, followed by Lydia and Malia, who didn’t look like they were too thrilled to go along with it either. But it didn’t matter who did or didn’t agree with the decision, Stiles reminds himself, none of them had stood up for him. Oh and Jackson. Stiles had forgot about him. Stiles didn’t really care about Jackson, who he realized would probably act all happy today. Stiles hoped Scott would at least tell Jackson to knock it off if he started picking on him in lacrosse practice. That is, if he made it to the end of the day. He planned to.   
Derek though, Derek was a puzzle. Stiles missed him more than he thought he would because over the past couple months he had grown closer to him. He had always wanted to make him proud or laugh (which was close to impossible). He was like the older brother he never had, and yet he delivered half of the hardest blows. Stiles didn’t know what would happen. Maybe they would talk to him, maybe they would all say they were sorry and admit it was a joke and they were all being stupid and everything would be like normal. Or not.

Stiles walked in to his high school alone for the first time in the past 2 years. He took a breath and walked down the hall. Without warning a passing senior slammed into him, knocking him into the nearest set of lockers. Stiles winced as he hit the floor. He groaned, rubbing his back as he picked himself up.   
“Kid walking here,” Stiles said angrily, “Are you blind?”   
The group of boys laughed and walked down the hall. Stiles was a little shocked since that hadn’t happened since 8th grade, but then he realized why. Stiles had always been around the pack. At least one, if not all, of his friends were always at his side. But now he’s alone and perfect prey. There was no one to stick up for him anymore. Stiles forced his head up. If that’s how it would be, then he’ll have to stick up for himself. He got to his locker and looked out of the corner of his eye. On the other side of the hallway was Scott’s locker and the whole pack, as usual, was gathered around him. Stiles found he couldn’t say anything as he grabbed his books and hurried down the hall. Not one of them glanced up, yet he knew they all had known he was behind them. 

Somehow, they had all avoided him all morning. Stiles sat in the back of the class, scribbling notes to keep him awake, clenching his hands into fists whenever he felt a wave of pain coming. He had a huge headache and a sore chest, but that as internal. Externally, his back still hurt, and the scrape from the nail he had been cut by at the Hale House had started bleeding again. He had to go to the nurse, kind of thankful that he got out of class. When lunch came around, Stiles decided to finally talk to his pack. Better get it over with. They were sitting in the same spot, but Boyd and filled in Stiles’ old seat and everyone had moved down. That’s comforting. Stiles notices Isaac isn’t there though.   
Before he could change his mind, Stiles walked right up to the table and cleared his throat, “Hi.”  
“What are you doing here?” That was Scott, who wouldn’t even look up at him.  
“So you’re really taking that no talking thing seriously huh? Is it special treatment for me or are you never going to talk again? Because I doubt you could all keep your mouths shut for more than a minute,” Stiles resorted to his familiar form of sarcastic humor to stop the tears or anger from showing.   
No one answered. A couple people fidgeted in their seats as he stood there awkwardly.  
"Knock knock- come on guys!" Stiles said desperately. He looked at his best friend and found his voice weaker, his confidence deflating rapidly, “Scott, please…”   
“Go away Stiles.” His friend growled.  
Stiles frowned, “So just because Derek glows his eyes you’re going to worship him and everything he says?”  
“He's an alpha Stiles,” Scott says angrily.  
"You're an alpha," Stiles points out.   
"You're not helping," Scott says through gritted teeth.  
“You’re my best friend,” Stiles shoots back.  
“You’re just making things worse,” Scott says.  
“I’m making things worse?” Stiles exploded. He backed off, wincing and lowering his voice. It cracked with emotion and he whispered, “Scotty? Come on. It's me. It's us.”  
“Stay away from us,” Scott pleads, finally looking up at him. Stiles sees pain in his friend’s eyes which pisses him the heck off. Pain? He’s feeling bad about what he did? Good!  
“Just stay away,” Scott repeats.  
“Let’s see how well you do without me.” Stiles hissed, before looking at everyone in shock, “I don’t believe this. I’ve saved all of you. Every single one. I come up with plans, I know things about the supernatural that you all have to spend hours scratching the surface, I’ve helped you, I’ve risked my life for you, I’ve been the only positive one when you all are convinced that we’re all going to die. And you throw me in the dirt the minute you have an excuse?” Stiles licks his lips, not slowing up, “I was your pack, I was your brother Scott. Lydia, I’ve had a crush on you since the third grade. Jackson,” Stiles paused, “you’re a jerk. Boyd and Erica? I took a beating for you and I didn’t get just a black eye. I went to the hospital with cracked ribs, cuts and bruises, and a sprained wrist. Malia I was your anchor, I helped Scott save you,” Stiles shook his head, “does that mean nothing to any of you? It obviously doesn’t, which means I can only come to one conclusion- you all are the crappiest pack mates ever. And if you don’t want me, just say it. After all I did for you, say it.” Stiles is breathing hard. A few heads have turned around them.   
No one says anything. It’s Scott who speaks but he doesn't say: I don't want you Stiles, he says, “Stiles, please leave.”  
Stiles bites his lip hard, shaking in anger. Lydia has her head in her hands, flinching at the sentence. He nods and storms away, dumping his lunch in the trash and walking out of the cafeteria. He shoves the door open to the bathroom and slams a door to the nearest stall, sinking to the floor and pulling his legs to his chest. Stiles takes deep shuddering breaths. Everything wasn’t going to be ok. He was wrong to think it would be, wrong to think he would ever go back to them, wrong to think they would apologize, wrong to think he was important to them or wanted. Stiles watches sadly as the last spark of hope he had withers and dies in front of him. He’s scared he’ll have an anxiety attack just then, his hands start shaking and the room starts spinning. He hits the side of the stall with his hand, trying to steady himself, but it’s already happening and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard. Oh no. Not again. His throat closes up and his hands become clammy. Not another panic attack. Scott usually helped him through these. Or Lydia. 2 people that didn’t stand up for him, that turned their back on him. He hears the door to the bathroom open and someone walk in. They call out a question (he can’t hear it; his ears are ringing) but he can’t answer; he’s too busy struggling to breath. His chest hurts and he can't breathe right. He reaches up with trembling hands and unlocks the door that the person is pounding on. It flies open, barely missing his face and Danny is standing there. His eyes lower and fall on Stiles and he grabs his friend’s arms and pulls him out of the stall and against the nearest wall.   
“Stiles! Hey! Stiles! Calm down!”  
Yelling doesn’t help and Danny seems to realize that, running over to the sink, cupping his hands under the faucet and splashing the remaining water left in his palms onto Stiles. It takes Stiles a few minutes to get his breathing back to normal, with Danny helping the whole time. When he finally can see straight he gasps one more time and sinks against the wall, looking up at his friend. Danny clutches his shoulder; he’s on the ground with him.   
“Dude what happened? Where’s Scott?” Danny asks urgently.  
“They kicked me out of the pack,” Stiles mumbles without thinking. Danny doesn’t know about the supernatural, now Stiles just looks like a muttering lunatic. To his surprise Danny flinches.  
“Why?” He asks softly.  
“Wait...you know?” Stiles asks weakly.  
Danny raises an eyebrow, “I’m not stupid. I had a hunch. It’s Beacon Hills, it’s crazy here. And there can only be so many animal attacks. Besides, I’m best friends with Jackson.”   
Stiles nods, blinking once, “Huh.”  
“But why would they kick you out?” Danny asks again.  
Stiles feels like crying as he tells Danny everything, almost from the beginning. When he’s done, Danny’s got a look of murder on his face.  
“How dare they?” He shouts, glaring at the wall next to Stiles.  
Stiles nods slowly, licking his lips, “I- I can’t...I have to go home. Oh God, you won’t tell them anything, like about this will you Danny? Even if they ask?”  
“For you? You’re secret's safe with me. And I’m here for whatever you need me for, ok?” Danny clasps his friend’s hand and pulls him up to his feet, “I’m so sorry Stiles.” Danny says sadly.  
Stiles gives him a hug, “It’s not your fault. Thanks Danny, I owe you one. And yeah, I’ll keep you posted.”  
“Now get out of here,” Danny smiles.  
Stiles grins for the first time in a day and walks out of the bathroom, and then walks out of the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! They made my day and I am sooooo happy everyone liked it! Stay tuned for chapter 3 where the LAST person Stiles would expect cares, makes a visit!
> 
> (Feel free to check out my other fanfic called I got you first if you're a marvel fan. :) )


	3. Counseling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Deaton and has quite a shock about what the doctor has to say. Annnnnnd, an unexpected visitor arrives who claims he's on Stiles' side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you all are intrigued :) Enjoy!

Coach got angry that he had missed lacrosse practice but Stiles lied and told him he had gotten sick and thrown up everywhere. After a detailed description of what the vomit had looked like, Coach let him off easy, with just a lap. Stiles ran it quickly before joining the team for practice. He had gotten better at running, but he was still a little winded after the end of it and looked to his side, putting out his hand for Scott to help him stand straight. Hot tears came to his eyes and he bit his lip, staring at the empty grass next to him. No more Scott. Stiles jogged back to the huddle, standing on the opposite side of Scott and Jackson, who hadn’t seen him yet. They looked surprised to see him when he got in the stretching line. Stiles turned away from them, thankful for his helmet that hid his pained face. Practice was going okay, until scrimmages. During a run, Jackson came barreling at him. He hit him hard after Stiles passed off the ball and launched him off his feet. Stiles flipped in the air and landed hard on his stomach, coughing and seeing stars. He tasted iron and blood in his mouth as he wheezed and groaned on the ground, rolling on his back. It was Danny who came running over to help him to his feet while Coach blew his whistle excessively and stormed on the field to yell at Jackson.  
“What the heck was that Whitmore? Cut that crap! Stilinski! You good?”  
Danny gave a thumbs up to Coach for him with his free hand (the other was supporting Stiles) while Stiles clutched his side, blinking tears away. Scott simply turned away, wincing and shaking his head. To Stiles’ fury, he said nothing to Jackson who smirked at Stiles as he passed by. Scott had hurt him more than he could imagine. He could take this. For the rest of practice he kept his head down and stayed away from them both. Back in the locker room, he grabbed his stuff and moved next to Danny who slid his bag to the side.  
“I’ll talk to Jackson,” Danny shook his head, “That wasn’t ok-”  
“No. Please don’t,” Stiles looked at Danny sadly, “Please?”  
Danny hesitated but then sighed, “Ok.”  
Stiles quickly changed, said goodbye to Danny and then hurried out of the locker room before he could get decked by Jackson again, or catch sight of his ex best friend that Stiles hated for not sticking up for him. Stiles slung his lacrosse bag over his shoulder and opened the main double doors, hurrying to his jeep. He didn’t feel like going home. So he went to the one person who probably didn’t hate him yet. Deaton. 

He opened the door to the clinic and the doctor was turned around, “Scott you’re late again.”  
“It’s not Scott,” Stiles said softly.  
Deaton turned around and brightened before returning to rubbing down the counter, “Stiles, how good to see you. Where is Scott, he’s usually with you?”  
“Not anymore,” Stiles said, rubbing his nose and blinking back tears.  
The doctor didn’t see Stiles’ expression as he continued to clean up his station, “Fighting? It’s alright Stiles, you both will make up. You always do.”  
“Not this time,” That was even softer but Deaton heard it and looked up, realizing something was wrong.  
“They kicked me out of the pack,” Stiles said.  
Deaton froze. He slowly turned, confusion written across his face, “They what?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles rubbed his fist against his eyes, smearing the tears that had forced their way out, “Deaton I don’t know what to do. Everything was just stripped away from me and I’m falling apart. Deaton I…” Stiles sank to the floor, his back against the counter and he told Deaton the same thing he had told Danny: everything.  
When he was done, and sobs were building up in his throat the doctor sighed, fuming.  
“Stiles you’re the brightest kid I know. You’ve helped your pack with so much and they were wrong to treat you this way. I doubt they’ll last long without you, I’m so sorry Stiles. If there’s anything I can do…”  
“I just didn’t know where to go Deaton.” Stiles said.  
The doctor nodded, “Well they were wrong to kick you out, but Stiles, they weren’t wrong about the Nogitsune.”  
Stiles’ head snapped up, “What?”  
The doctor held up his hands at his fearful expression, “It’s not quite what you think Stiles. Rest assured, the evil is out of you but the power isn’t. It got left behind. You’re human Stiles, but the Nogitsune’s powers got transferred to you. It found a new host, a good one, contrary to its previous evil one. Which just makes their mistake more idiotic I’m afraid.” The doctor smiled sadly at him.  
“Can I learn how to control it?” Stiles asked, ignoring the last part.  
“Yes.” Then he saw Stiles’ look of eagerness toward him and he waved his hand, “Oh, I can’t teach you. But I know someone who can. It’s just out of state, but unfortunately my old friend is on vacation at the moment, so if you want to do this, you’ll have to hold out here for another week or two.”  
Stiles nodded vigorously, “I can do that.” He can do that? Right?

Stiles drives back to his house and parks his car in his driveway. He unlocks his front door and steps inside, throwing his lacrosse bag on the floor and tossing his backpack on the step. He holds onto the wall as he kicks off his shoes. A little flutter of hope comes back, but it’s a different one. For a different reason. And his dad would be happy to know he’s hungry.  
Stiles walks into the kitchen and freezes.  
“I heard what happened. And I’m shocked you didn’t tell me.”  
Stiles shifted his weight from foot to foot, “You’re not the first person I go to when I want a shoulder to cry on Peter. No offense.”  
“Of course.” Peter, who had his feet up on Stiles’ table, and he tosses him a sandwich in a plastic bag, which actually sounds pretty good. Hoping it’s not poisoned, Stiles takes a bite and sits in the chair next to Peter.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asked.  
“You take up part time counseling Peter?” Stiles raises an eyebrow, “How did you get in?”  
“Back door.” Peter says.  
“It’s locked,” Stiles says, taking another bite of the sandwich that’s not half bad.  
“And? The point is Stiles, is that if Scott and Derek are dumb enough to kick you out of his pack, I’m not going to be in pack full of straight up idiots.”  
“What are you saying?” Stiles asks.  
“Look I know I’m not the most trustworthy or friendly person,” Peter says.  
“I vaguely remember you kidnapping me and slamming me against a computer on your truck,” Stiles nods.  
“I want to help you Stiles. You’re a good kid. My stupid nephew hurt you. Scott hurt you. Why? Because you’re human? If I recall, you made the plan to take me down, and pretty much every single plan that worked, not to mention, you’ve always been there to save their butts.”  
Stiles nods, allowing him to continue. Of all people to agree with him it’s Peter?  
“They obviously can’t see potential. I can. And frankly, I have nothing else better to do. Especially not with my nephew and his pack. And I never was a fan of Scott to be completely honest”  
“Can’t imagine why,” Stiles drawls, but he is surprised to hear sincerity in Peter’s voice and the similar twinge of anger that’s been lurking in Stiles’ tone for days. There’s silence and he watches Peter carefully before sighing, “Well we can’t exactly start a pack. We both aren’t alphas.”  
Peter laughs, “The whole point of a pack, Stiles, is having people who look out for you, act as your family. And the alpha is simply the leader. And glowing eyes and fangs don’t make a leader,” Peter says taking a big drink of a Pepsi bottle that Stiles had in his refrigerator.  
“Hey I was saving that!” Stiles whines.  
Peter grins, “For me of course.”  
“Yeah right. Ok so what, we start a pack...no, look I’m leaving soon anyway! Apparently I have a power and I’m learning how to control it or something, I don’t know, but if it gets me away from here for a while, I’m down.”  
“Then I’ll come with you,” Peter suggested, “Besides I’ve already broke the bonds with Derek’s pack. As have you.” Then he scratched his chin, “Lydia and Isaac are on the edge with Scott and Scott...Scott’s a puzzle.”  
Stiles changed the subject, ignoring the mention of Scott, “You can’t come with me. You can visit, sure.” Stiles got up and walked to the sink, filling up a cup of water, “And I’m liking this pack thing by the way.” He leaned against the counter, “I have to say, it feels good to be wanted...after what happened.” Peter smiled at that.  
Then Stiles locked eyes with him and frowned, “But my dad... And them and everything here. I usually keep him out of things. And with me being gone...I’ll need you to do that. That’s why I’ll need you to stay?”  
It was statement turned question; he didn’t want to force Peter into anything.  
“I don’t like it but fine,” Peter sighed. Then he raised his eyebrows, “Tell me about this power?”  
“You aren’t going to try and rip it out of me or something right?” Stiles half joked.  
“Those days are over,” Peter assured him, and for some reason Stiles believed him.  
And so, Stiles told him everything that Deaton had told him and everything that Peter didn’t already know about the pack kicking him out. It was awful telling the story again, but he got through it without breaking down. His hand was trembling and he hastily shoved it in his pocket.  
Peter hissed out, “Derek of all people should know. He’s had everything taken away from him in an instant. It’s cruel that he would do the same to you.”  
Stiles and Peter talked a little more, long enough for his dad to come home, which was interesting. The minute his dad saw Peter he pulled out his gun. Peter laughed and put his hands up, “I surrender.”  
Stiles stepped in the line of fire.  
“Dad, its ok. Peter’s on my side,” Stiles said.  
His dad raised his eyebrows and said, “Talk. Now.”  
And so Stiles talked. He filled in the gaps that his dad didn’t already know, told him how he really felt, told him about Deaton, told him about Gerard...told him everything. And by the end of it, his dad had his gun holstered, which was progress.  
“So you’re leaving?” His dad asked, rather quietly.  
Peter stood up, “I think I should leave you two alone. Stiles, you have my number, if you need anything, give me a call. Sheriff, thanks for not shooting me.” He nods at Stiles’ dad.  
“Don’t give me a reason to,” his dad gives a nod back.  
“Thanks Peter,” Stiles says, opening the door for his new ally.  
Peter smiles at him, “No need to thank. And I’ll see if I can slap some sense into Derek and Scott. Literally, if I have to. I’m sorry about all of this Stiles. I really am.”  
Stiles nods and smiles a bit. Peter grins back and walks to his corvette that’s across the street.  
“That’s yours?!” Stiles laughs, “What do you do for a living?”  
Peter laughs and gets in his car, “Well counseling didn’t pay well,” he jokes. “Keep in touch, you hear me Stiles?”  
“How can I not? Your yelling,” Stiles says, smirking. Peter waves him off and shuts the door, driving away and making sure to rev the engine. Stiles shakes his head and walks back inside. His dad is still at the table and he looks up, “So you’re leaving?”  
“Yeah dad. But only for a little while,” Stiles promises, walking back over and taking a seat, “I won’t be far, you can come to visit, but I can’t let the pack know. I never want to see them again dad because every time I do it’s like a stabbing pain and a feeling like I’ve lost everything.” His voice breaks and he trails off. He rubs his neck, “I don’t want to feel like that. And this is an excuse to not feel like that. To leave. A useful excuse. And so I don’t hurt anyone with these powers. I need to figure them out. And I’m not leaving right away. I have 2 weeks.”  
“Do you really want this Stiles?” His dad asks, after a minute of silence.  
“Yeah. I...I do.” Stiles says softly, “It hurts dad. And I just want it to stop hurting.”  
His dad puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “Ok then. Just promise I can come and visit any time I want?”  
Stiles grins and hugs his dad, “Anytime.”


	4. Silent Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Stiles patch things up, and Scott comes to try and apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another chapter! Enjoy!

Stiles was at the Sheriff's station, since he was bored at home. Sitting in his dad’s office in a chair, he was playing a game on his phone when suddenly his dad looked up and an awful look came over his face. Stiles jumped up and peered out the window. He blinked and before he could move, the girl with strawberry blonde hair saw him. They made eye contact and Stiles sighed. He got to his feet slowly and walked slowly forward to open the door of his dad’s office. Stiles stuck a sarcastic smirk on his face, sloppily patching up the gash in his heart as he had done many times before, and quickly untangling the knot that kept forming in his stomach.   
His dad got to his feet behind the desk but Stiles looked at him and nodded with assurance.   
He said, “It’s ok. It’s just lyd.”  
Stiles walked toward her, his face expressionless. He saw Lydia had tears in her eyes.  
“You look good Stiles. Are you ok?” She said after a second of awkward silence, her lower lip trembling.  
“No I’m not ok. My life kind of got punched, kicked and crapped on. But I’m making ends meet, thanks,” Stiles snapped angrily, before pausing. Lydia was one of the few that didn’t seem to enjoy the idea if he recalled. He sighed and looked up with an apologetic stare, “I would say sorry, but I don’t feel I need to, if you know what I mean.”  
“I know exactly what you mean,” she nodded vigorously, “so I’ll say it.”   
She took a breath and looked him in the eye, showing that flare that was one of the reasons Stiles had liked her.   
“Stiles,” she said, “I’m sorry. And not on behalf of everyone, but on behalf of me. I never agreed with this, but they said they were doing it for your protection from this new threat that...never showed up, and it was supposed to be to protect you. But that day, people went rogue and said stuff-” Lydia locked eyes with him, snapping her head up, “and I am not making excuses for them. If I could kick Jackson, Erica and Boyd out of the pack, I would. I never wanted you out, and frankly, I wanted to walk out with you. The only reason I stayed was because if I didn’t go along with it,I would hurt more friends than I already had. The plan was to tell you it was all a lie and to have you come back after this was all over. I knew it was wrong and I don’t know what I was thinking. We never-” she corrected herself in fury, “I never should have done that to you. And I’m sorry. So coming from me, I hope that you can find it in the heart that I stepped on without thinking to forgive me? Stiles I’m so sorry.”  
Stiles was a little shocked. Protecting him or not, they never should have done that. He was still pissed at Scott and Derek the most, which meant forgiving them would take forever because there was a lot of anger directed at those two. But Lydia...and Isaac for that matter, were against it for sure, and he knew more than anything that leaving your friends could get them killed, and somewhere in his mind, he knew that Lydia was forced to make a choice, and she (although it crushed him) made the right one. He feels like he would have done the same thing.   
“Stiles you don’t even have to say anything. You’ve saved me from Eichen House, from the bear trap, from the lacrosse field- more times than I can even count. I tried to tell everyone how many times you saved all of us and how it was only for your protection, because I knew that threat or no threat…you would have wanted to be there with us and we should have let you. And I know that now, I've always known that, and I should have stuck up for you.”   
She wiped her eyes and held up her head, “I’m so sorry Stiles. I hope I can make it up to you, and,” she paused, “I hope you still...because I never told you that…I...”   
Lydia couldn’t really fill in the blanks, but Stiles could and a piece of his heart healed in that moment.   
Lydia cleared her throat and flipped her hair over her shoulder boldly, “I brought you this. It’s from the formal. You can throw it away if you want to. But I look at it every night and it makes me feel a little better. I- I miss you Stiles.” She pulls a small picture out of her bag and gives it to him, wiping her eyes again.  
Stiles lets out a small chuckle but it’s barely heard as he turns over the picture with trembling hands and runs his thumb over it. It’s him and Lydia dancing. Someone from the yearbook club must have taken it. Stiles gets a warm and fuzzy feeling remembering the first time he got Lydia to dance with him, how he held her and she held him…  
Stiles looked up, “Thanks.” He meant it.  
Lydia nodded before smiling slightly and pointing to her wet sleeve, “You know, you said I look beautiful when I cry, and you’re a liar. I look like a lunatic.”  
The corner of Stiles’ mouth jerks up.  
There’s silence.  
“I should go,” Lydia said softly and she turned to walk out the door.   
Stiles realized he hadn’t said anything.   
“Lyd,” He says.   
She stops and turns and there are tears in her eyes, “Yeah?”  
He clears his throat and just blurts out the first words that come to mind, “Orange and blue. Maybe they don’t always go together, but things you think wouldn’t be a good combination... maybe can end up turning out to be the perfect combination?”   
He’s never seen Lydia so happy. They just stare at each other for a while, Lydia grinning wide and Stiles giving her a small smile. She looks so relieved like a huge burden is taken for her chest, which convinces Stiles that he’s made the right decision at starting to forgive her.  
Lydia smiles and winks at him, “It’s the colors of the Mets.”  
“The Mets are in they’re rebuilding season at the moment,” he says slowly, looking her in the eyes so she understands at what he’s getting at. He can’t just forget about all this, but it’s a first step, and it’s a good first step.  
Lydia is bursting with happiness and she nods quickly again, “Yes, yes they are. Time is good after all.” Then she switches out of the analogy and nods one more time, “I deserve that. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll...I’ll see you around Stiles.”  
Stiles smiles weakly, biting his lip to keep from letting the hurtful words out. If he did, it was misdirected and he couldn’t unleash it on Lydia, the one person who came to apologize and try and mend things. Lydia is smiling again. In the past, Stiles would have happily stayed right where he was to see her staring at him like that all day. But Stiles is different now. And feeling that exact same way again will take time. But he’ll get there. And Lydia knows that now. For Derek and Scott, Stiles doesn’t know if it will get back to “that way” but for Lydia, definitely.  
“Now get out of here,” Stiles says, giving her a smirk so she knows he’s kidding.   
Lydia gives him one last big smile and a choked sob of joy before she flips her beautiful strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and practically skips out the door.   
Stiles sees Parrish wiggle his eyebrows at him and give a low hoot. Stiles laughs and heads back into his father’s office.  
“So you and Lydia…” his father says, raising his eyebrows.  
“We’re good. Scott and Derek not so much. Protecting me or not, I don’t care. They can’t do that to me and practically blackmail everyone else to go along with it. Which is what they did. As far as Isaac and Malia are concerned, they’re off the hook, more Isaac than Malia though. I trust Lyd about the whole protection thing. It sounds like a Scott and Derek thing to do, trying to keep me out of the dangerous things, but I hate them anyway.”  
Noah asked, “What about Erica,Boyd and Jackson?”  
“Screw them,” Stiles scoffs, “Never really liked them anyway.”  
His father smirks. 

 

A week of school went by. Peter had come over and talked to him about what he had been up to, mostly sneaking around the town making sure no supernatural threats were about to jump out and interrupt Stiles’ scheduled date for departure. Once he even helped with Stiles’ physics homework. Noah and Peter had a better relationship now which Stiles’ appreciated since Peter would be protecting his dad while he was gone.   
School was school. He had practiced lacrosse when he could outside of school, grateful for the excuse to be busy and the distraction it provided. He threw himself into the sport, even scoring a goal yesterday in the game. Scott looked mildly surprised. Speaking of Scott...the pack.   
He caught them giving him more and more looks every once in a while which just makes his heart hurt, and anger boil in his chest. But the hope inside him was growing larger with every passing day. Lydia was smiling at him in the hallway, encouraging him whenever he felt down. Even she was getting angry when a pack mate walked by and ignored him, and she spent more time with him lately, even calming him down once when he had a panic attack in the library during free period, which gave Stiles a weird feeling of deja vu. She didn’t kiss him this time though, and he could tell they were both mildly disappointed. He and Lydia had definitely patched things up a lot, she even met up with him in class or outside when the pack wasn’t around.   
Jackson had seen them and tried to pull Lydia away, which resulted in the redhead almost smacking him. Instead she put on a fake smile, getting in his face and stated that she didn’t care if he told Derek or not. Stiles guessed Jackson never went through with telling the Alpha. Even he was scared of Lydia when she got angry.  
“We’re still cautious about the Fenrir coming, but it’s been 2 weeks. If they haven’t come by now, they’re not coming at all.”  
Lydia had explained what happened after he had left the Hale House. Stiles had yet to talk to Isaac, as had the rest of the pack. He was gone most of the time, going who-knows-where, distraught that he had betrayed his friend. Stiles didn’t really care how Jackson, Erica, and Boyd had reacted. But Derek and Scott and how they reacted...it had softened the blow at first, but then it just made him angrier. They were so selfish to only think of themselves, acting like saints when they just smash his life to pieces. He took comfort in the fact that Lydia had stood up for him though, and yelled at the pack. Stiles was building a stronger and stronger bridge with her with each passing day. The old spark was slowly coming back, but Stiles was afraid it would burn out because he knew he had to tell her he was leaving in 3 days. When he finally did, Lydia was shocked.  
“Where are you going?” She demanded.  
“Deaton has an old friend who can teach me to bring out and control my powers that I didn’t know I had. It will be until hopefully all this blows over and I can come back and be able to live normally again,” Stiles explains.  
“But Stiles you’re doing fine,” Lydia insists.  
“No I’m not Lyds. This is all an act for everyone at school, my dad especially. He’s freaking out. You know this morning, he said something totally stupid and I didn’t even flinch. I’m losing my sarcasm, I’m...I can’t Lydia.” He had tried and failed to make a joke, which happened a lot lately. Stiles shook his head, rubbing his fist against his forehead and messing up his hair.  
“Talk to me,” Lydia said softly.  
Stiles held up his hand to their eye level and willed the dam to break inside him. Immediately his hand started shaking until Stiles clenched it into a fist.   
“I can’t sleep, I barely eat, it’s like half of my life just got crushed under a boot and I can’t pick all the pieces up with all of them staring at me. I’m sorry. I’m doing my best…” Stiles swallowed a sob. He had just gotten to the point where he could go to bed without feeling a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat, but that didn’t stop the nightmares and the jumpiness in the middle of the night, the anxiety and anger throughout the day, or the panic attacks that were happening more frequently. But it was progress.   
Stiles shook his head and finished, “but I just can’t. I’ve lost a lot Lydia. And maybe some time away can allow me to patch myself back up and I’ll come back when I’m ready.”  
Lydia hugged him, “You’ll call me,” she demanded.  
“I will,” He promised, “but you can’t tell anyone about this ok? No one. Not Derek or Scott, even if they ask.”  
“I won’t.” Lydia shook her head, “3 days huh…”  
“Yeah,” Stiles said, “3 days.”

Stiles was in his room, on his computer doing homework when he heard the window open. He turned in his chair and froze.   
“Hi Stiles,” Scott said.  
Stiles curled his hand into a fist and didn’t respond. He spun his chair to face his computer and continued typing. His dad was working a late night shift so the house was empty. He could do this by himself.   
“Stiles I’m not supposed to be here,” Scott started.  
Stiles spun in his chair, “Wow, what a rebel. You’re risking a lot.”  
“Stiles I’m sorry,” Scott says weakly, wringing his hands, “I want to explain.”  
“Yeah so do I, so let me go first,” Stiles says angrily, getting to his feet and going face to face with his ex best friend, “I don’t understand how you think you can come in here and act like nothing’s happened, say you’re sorry and expect me to put all that behind me just because of two words. You shattered my life into millions of pieces Scott. Just leave me alone so I can try and put it back together.”  
“Stiles we were trying to protect you,” Scott says.   
“Kicking me out of the pack and ruining my life is not protection Scott. Not even close,” Stiles snapped.   
“Look the Fenrir were coming and they’re worse than anything we’ve ever faced. I didn’t want you in danger and you know you would have stayed even if I had told you to leave,” Scott said, “Stiles I can’t have you get hurt. I can’t...I’m supposed to protect you Stiles, and even I couldn’t have done that if we were right. You would have been killed.”  
Stiles hates to admit that he’s right- he wouldn’t have stayed out of it if Scott asked him to, but that doesn’t matter.  
“And how is this better Scott?” He asks softly. “You think you’re doing what’s best for me, but what have you done really? Ruined lacrosse and school for me, because everywhere I look I see someone who doesn’t want me, tossed me to the curb without a thought and won’t look at me. You’ve taken away all my friends-my family...my only family Scott. All I’ve got is my dad. With you guys I was wanted, I had a purpose, I could protect you all, heck, I even got to spend days on end with the most beautiful girl to ever walk this Earth- and my brother. You Scott. I was happy and yeah there were risks and dangers, we all knew that but I never cared! Then one day it’s just over? And I’m human and weak, and possesed- well I got possessed because you dragged me into all of this! I got possessed because I protected you, because I was good, I was innocent! And I took that and I fought that and people died because of me and I will NEVER forgive myself for that, but we got through it. Together. But suddenly, I’m dead weight and a threat, so you chose the only logical thing to do and protect me by leaving me stranded all alone. Real smart Scott. Real smart.”  
“Stiles, I-” Scott whimpers, backed up a step toward the window because of Stiles yelling at him, “Stiles I’m so sorry, you don’t understand…”  
Stiles steps away, shaking his head, “No I don’t. I don’t understand how you could do this to me Scotty. You were my best friend, my brother. If you wanted to protect me, you would have never kicked me out.” He went and crossed the room, sitting back down in his chair.  
Scott is still standing there, at the verge of tears, shuffling his feet on Stiles’ carpet.   
There’s complete silence, Scott still clearly stunned at what Stiles said to him and Stiles still stunned that he had actually said all the things that he had been dying to say.  
He hears Scott move to the window and climb out. He hears him whisper, “Stiles, I’m so sorry.” And then the window shuts. He hears Scott run across the roof and then a small thud when he jumps off. Stiles hadn’t turned around, because if he had, Scott would have seen him crying, silent tears running down his cheeks. 

Scott feels like he’s been sucker punched. He’d never seen Stiles so hurt and so angry. Stiles is breathing hard and he turns and crosses the room, collapsing back into his chair. Scott stands there frozen in the middle of the floor, completely stunned and realizing that Stiles was right. He had made a mistake that cost him his best friend. Scott is holding back tears, awkwardly shuffling his feet on the carpet. He finally leaves after 3 minutes of silence and opens the window, climbing through and whispering, “Stiles, I’m so sorry.”   
He’s waiting for what? Stiles to jump up and drag him back inside to hug him hard and forgive him for an unforgivable thing? Tell him that he’ll try to forgive him? Even look at him? No. And Scott doesn’t expect him too. In fact, he’s glad he doesn’t. He can’t shrink away from this. He closes the window and turns away to run off the roof and jump into the grass. He doesn’t look back through the window again. Scott can’t avoid the pain and guilt because he deserves it. Scott doesn’t turn around, because if he had, Stiles may have seen him crying, silent tears running down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and support! Comment what you think!


	5. Keep in Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets another unwanted vistor before he leaves to go upstate.   
> Minimum time jump with Peter coming to update Stiles on what's going on in Beacon Hills while he's away, and Stiles finally squares its straight with and forgives a certain beta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another update! Hope you all enjoy it! Comment your thoughts below!

Stiles had a rough day at school the day after Scott decided to show up. A few of the seniors must have thought he looked vulnerable and did a little more than just slam him into the locker. Stiles’ chest hurt and he tasted blood in his mouth as he walked down the hallway. He probably had a black eye and a dark bruise was forming on his jaw from a left hook. He cursed his smart mouth as he stumbled into his last class. Stiles kept his head down the whole block so the teacher wouldn’t notice. By the end of the day, Stiles didn’t want to go to lacrosse practice, he just wanted to go home. He was probably never coming back here anyway.   
Stiles slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out with all of the other kids, passing the boys locker room. Danny called out his name but he ignored him, pretending he hadn’t heard him. Stiles got to his jeep and shoved his bag in the trunk. Then all the hairs on Stiles’ neck stood straight up. There was someone behind him, Stiles could feel it. When he turned around, he clenched his hands into weak fists. A mix of emotions slammed into Stiles as he forced himself to raise his gaze, since the man standing in front of him was tall.   
“What do you want Derek?” Stiles demanded, keeping his composure. He wouldn’t break in front of them again. Especially not in front of Derek.   
Derek hung his head, “Stiles I wanted to say I’m sorry.”  
“First Scott, now you,” Stiles said angrily.  
Derek looked surprised, “Scott came to see you? He didn’t tell me.”  
Stiles felt a little bad about rating Scott out so he said, “Well I don’t suppose you told him that you were going to come see me.”  
Derek’s falter in his stare proved Stiles’ right.  
“You know, ever since you flashed your eyes and demanded no one speak to me, ”Stiles shrugged. “That was after you threw me out of the door, just so you have your timeline straight,” Stiles hissed.  
“Stiles I-” Derek stopped. “What happened to your face?”  
He must have noticed the bruises and blood. It was hard to miss.  
“None of your business,” Stiles spat, wiping a cut on his lip with his thumb.  
Derek took a step forward and Stiles backed into the trunk of his Jeep. He wasn’t scared,just cautious.  
“You’re in pain,” Derek stated. Stiles was. He was used to hiding his pain through, from normal people. His brain and heart had been in agonizing pain all day, but he hadn’t said a thing. You can’t hide pain from werewolves though. Stiles had trained himself so hard to keep everything bottled up, but he can only shove so much in. He felt like he was about to shatter.   
Now back to what Derek had said. Stiles wondered if he was talking about the bruises or the internal pain. His injuries hurt, but seeing Derek was opening wounds that he had tried so hard to close. And by actually caring, Derek was just ripping out the stitches.  
Stiles let out a dry sarcastic laugh, “I have a new definition of pain now, thanks to you.”  
“Who did it?” Derek demanded.  
“It’s none of your business who did it,”Stiles snapped.  
“Who?” Derek urged,an angry glare on his face. He looked over Stiles’ shoulder as if he could pick out the seniors that threw a few punches at Stiles’ face. He was like an older pissed off brother, about to go slap some sense into the bullies that hurt his younger brother. Stiles refused to be touched by his anger.  
“I’m not talking to you,” Stiles said plainly.  
Derek’s eyes snapped toward him, “Stiles, I thought I was protecting you. But the Fenrir were a false alarm and for that I’m sorry. But we need you back,” Derek said, getting straight to the point like he usually did. Yet this time, there was a bit of pleading in his usually rough voice, and it was mixed with guilt and grief.   
“How about you get the guy who saved all your butts, came up with all the plans, and made everyone laugh and actually like each other-” Stiles suggested, before pausing, “Oh wait, you picked him up and kicked him out of your life and smashed his life into tiny little pieces.”  
Derek didn’t hesitate, “Stiles, it was all a lie, it was a fake, a plan just to save your life by getting you away from us.”  
“Oh well it worked didn’t it?” Stiles yelled at him, “I’m gone. I’m out of the picture. You happy?”  
“No!” Derek yelled, “No, I’m not!” Derek lowered his voice and his shoulders slumped, his head dropping to his chest, “We all miss you Stiles.”  
Now Stiles was getting really angry, trembling, he was so furious. He grit his teeth and snarled, “Well you should have thought of that. And yeah, you need me back?” Stiles voice rose and he walked right up to Derek, not backing down like he did last time at the Hale House. Stiles nodded, “You miss me? I know why! It’s because you’re always in a deep pile of crap and you don’t know how to get out. Well guess what? You just threw away the shovel and broke it! You broke it Derek! You and Scott both!”   
“Please Stiles-”  
“I don’t believe you,” Stiles let out a strangled form of a laugh, “How could you do that to me? You, of all people, know how it feels to have everything suddenly strippd away from you in a second! Everything Derek! How could...you…How could you think this would do me any good?” Stiles leans heavily against his car.   
“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” is all Derek can say. The wolf is suddenly so small, his eyes so wide and young and scared, like he’s remembering how it felt.   
Stiles had nothing else to say to Derek and he gets in his car, shuts the door and drives away. Derek got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until finally he was out of sight. 

Today was the day. He was actually leaving. Lydia came to see him out.   
“Take care of them,” Stiles grumbles, “Please? I hate their guts, but I don’t want them dead. And take care of yourself too.”  
“I will,” she promises.   
“How’s Isaac?” Stiles asks for the 15th time that week. Isaac wouldn’t let anyone talk to him about what happened, even Lydia. He was too distraught and in shock. Barely anyone had seen him.  
Lydia frowned, and that answered his question.   
“When he comes around I’ll make sure he talks to you,” she says.  
“Ok.” Stiles takes his last bag from Lydia and shoves it in the trunk, “I’m going to miss you. A lot.”  
Lydia nods, smiling sadly, “I’ll miss you too.” Stiles gives her a big hug, burying his face in her neck. Lydia holds him like she doesn’t want to let go, and he doesn’t want her to. When they finally pull apart, there are tears in both of their eyes.   
“I just got you back and now I have to lose you again…” Lydia says helplessly.  
“I’ll be back before you know it. Ok?” Stiles promises her, pushing a strand of strawberry blonde hair away from her face.   
“Ok,” Lydia says. They stare at each other for a while, but before either of them can do the thing they both want to do, Peter and the Sheriff walk out of the house.   
Stiles smiled shyly at Lydia who purses her lips and steps back, winking. Stiles gives his dad a hug.  
“Be careful son,” he says, holding him tight, “and keep in touch, ok?”  
“I will. I love you dad,” Stiles says, smiling at his father. Then he turns to Peter, “Thanks again.”  
“I’ll be in touch Stiles. And I’ll update you,” Peter says, giving Stiles a firm handshake.   
Stiles gets into his jeep, waves goodbye out the window and takes a breath. He shoves the key into the ignition, puts the car in drive and steps on the gas.   
He makes it 5 feet before he stops the car, looks in the rear view, unhooks his seat belt with flying fingers, jumps out and runs back to Lydia.   
Before she can say anything and before he can change his mind, he grabs her waist and kisses her. Lydia seems a little shocked but then her lips part into a smile and she kisses him back, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck as he pulls her closer.   
When they finally break apart, Stiles doesn’t wait around so he can say something stupid. He smiles at her, then his dad, then Peter, and then runs to his jeep, and closes the door. Stiles steps on the gas for real this time, his hands clutching the steering wheel. Then he drives away, hopefully, into a better future. He leaves everything behind. Well, almost everything. He keeps the good stuff close at hand. Stiles smiles, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not fake.`

2 WEEKS LATER

Stiles has been training for a couple weeks, and loving it here. His dad visited yesterday and he talked to Lydia this morning. Lauren, Deaton’s friend has taught him so much in the time he was here. Stiles found out how strong he really is and has been working as hard as he can to prove himself. Part of him wants to go home and walk up to the pack, look them in the eye, and say how useless am I now? Stiles has grown an inch, the power coursing through him has made everything easier. Healing, growing, getting stronger. Stiles is happy to announce that he has a 6 pack and muscles that are getting to rival Derek’s- he hadn’t even thought that was possible. His shoulders have gotten broader and he has gotten tanner. All of this should not have been possible in a couple weeks, which it wasn’t. Lauren was a doctor of the supernatural side, so a week of training was a simple day with her in alternate realities. He and Lauren had hit it off right away and she had become a sort of mentor to him. Stiles found that with his spark, he could do some of the same abilities of the Nogitsune: telekinesis, changing realities and appearances, some enhanced strength and endurance, and he had learned some magic from her as well. He was quicker, faster, stronger, and much more attuned to his powers now that she had exposed them. She nicknamed him Mischief, a name from his childhood. He had offered to pay her but apparently seeing him learn and grow so quickly was payment enough. 

“It’s been 2 weeks. Where is he?” Scott says, pacing the room.   
“Well he obviously didn’t want to be here,” Peter said, walking into the room.   
“Shut up Peter. It’s not like you where he is,” Derek growled. Peter almost laughed, but he settled for a smirk and a glance with Lydia. If only they knew.   
“What about Davenport prep?”  
“Already checked. He’s not enrolled. And I watched the kids leave from school. I didn’t catch his scent either.”  
“What did you do, stand there like a creepy stalker for 20 minutes, staring every kid down?” Peter scoffed.  
“Yes,” Derek said firmly.  
“That’s slightly disturbing,” Peter gave his nephew a sarcastic thumbs up.  
Scott runs a hand through his hair, “He didn’t switch schools, his dad is still here but he won’t let anyone talk to him, where did he go? Did he go to school out of state?”  
“It wasn’t about school Scott,” Derek said, “It was getting away from us.”  
“Well where did he go?” Malia asked.  
“Why can’t we find him?” Scott demanded.  
“Maybe because he doesn’t want to be found,” Lydia muttered.  
“No. He needs to. He needs to come back to Beacon Hills so we can protect him,” Scott says.  
“I thought the whole point was to protect him by getting him away from this. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Peter asked innocently.  
Scott growled, his eyes flashing red as he looked at Peter, “No! This isn’t what I wanted! I never wanted to lose my best friend! I lost my brother!”  
Lydia stood up, flipping her red hair angrily over her shoulder and poking a finger hard into Scott’s chest, “You! You know, Stiles could be happy. Maybe that’s why he left, ok? We were making him feel miserable here. He hated lacrosse and school and he was getting bullied again and we couldn’t do anything about it. And he finally goes away and maybe, just maybe, now he’s happy. But now all of a sudden he has to come back because Scott McCall says so?”   
Lydia puts her hands on her hips, “No! Ok? I’m tired of you always trying to fix things to make you look like the good guy. You screwed up Scott, admit it and let Stiles live his life.”  
Everyone's a little startled by her outburst. But Scott seems deflated, not angry.  
“Yeah but…we were his pack- his family!” Scott mumbles.  
“Yeah and then we kicked him out. If I was him I would have left to! We’ve treated him like he’s a human! But he was so much more than that. Don’t any of you get it?” Lydia let her hands drop weakly to her sides as she looked around the room. Peter gave her a small nod of approval.   
“Hey at least we don’t have to worry about him running his mouth anymore. You know, I decked him on the lacrosse field and there wasn’t a single peep from him,” Jackson said.  
“Yeah that wasn’t ok,” Scott glared at him.  
Lydia stormed over to him, “You what?!”  
“Hey he was fine,” Jackson muttered.  
“No he wasn’t,” Lydia fumed, “That’s Stiles. He holds it all in, he bottles it all up, he never breaks. And we’ve broken him but he won’t let that show. And now you’re practically laughing in his face- Jackson, how dare you?”  
“Lydia chill-” Jackson says, clearly uncomfortable.  
“Don’t tell me to chill!” Lydia says fiercely.  
Derek steps up to defend his beta, “Lydia back down.”  
Lydia turns to him, her eyes narrowing; she’s furious, “He trusted you Derek. He was like a younger brother to you. And you didn’t let yourself break either. Well you know how that came across to Stiles?”   
Lydia glared so hard Peter got uncomfortable and he was halfway across the room, “It came across that all this was real and we wanted no part in his life and we’re downright disgusted with him. That infuriated me.”   
She looked daringly at the Alpha, “You know what? I hope you never find him. Because Stiles is probably happy and content, far away from the people that ruined his life. And I’m tired of just going along with decisions that you seem to make for us.”  
“What are you talking about Lydia? That’s not true,” Derek says angrily.   
Lydia looks like she’s going to lose it and she does. Her hand flies out and slaps Derek straight in the face. He doesn’t attack or even flinch, but he’s shocked out of his senses. He stares at Lydia who is angry as ever.  
Derek snarls, “Lydia you better be careful or-”  
“Bite me,” she snarls, “Or wait, you actually might.”  
Derek was shocked by the redhead’s boldness.  
Lydia wasn’t done, “You just do things and glow your eyes. Well news flash Derek, you're not perfect. And you need to stop trying to be a hero. You’re just like Scott. Maybe that’s where he gets it from. But think about Stiles for once and not yourself and stop trying to ruin his life for the second time. You’ve done enough.”  
Lydia seems to be done and she turns on her heel and storms upstairs. There is silence in the room.   
“Lydia slapped you,” Jackson notes.   
Derek glows his red eyes at him and Jackson backs down. Scott is just as shocked, and rather hurt. Peter senses their emotions.   
Derek’s confused, angry, hurt, hateful, sad, worried, anxious…  
Scott is- wow. Scott’s a lot, Peter realizes. He’s angry at himself and Stiles for leaving. He’s hurt by the words, but he’s realizing Lydia was right. He’s sad probably because he knows he’s lost Stiles and he’s also confused because he doesn’t know what the heck to do.  
Peter leaves the stunned pack with the words, “Well you all have fun. I’m going to take off.”  
Peter walks out the door and Isaac jumps up from the porch step, wiping his eyes. He hadn’t seen him in a while and Isaac puts a finger to his lips to signal that he didn’t want the pack to know. Peter realized he could sense the pack’s distress and pain, and if he really focussed he could smell Isaac, but it was definitely drowned out beneath the emotions.  
Peter sighs and sits down on the place he was sitting, patting the spot next to him. Isaac sulks over and plops down, head in his hands. If it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, Peter wouldn’t have heard Isaac’s voice, muffled by his arms.  
“I heard everything. Lydia’s right. Peter, I feel awful. I didn’t stick up for him and now he’s gone and I miss him so much. I need him Peter, he was always there for me and when the time came, I wasn’t there for him and I wish I could take back what we did and defend him but I can’t and- Gosh, Peter it hurts so much,” Isaac says angrily.   
Peter gave Isaac a little awkward pat on the back. The boy’s heart was completely broken and Peter couldn’t help but frown. He felt the new bond between Stiles and Isaac growing closer, he could sense it. He and Stiles had a pretty tight one as did Stiles and the Sheriff. Lydia and Stiles were just as close, but now Isaac was in the picture. That was 5 people, making bonds within other packs. Peter didn’t even think that was possible, yet here they were. Peter took a long look at Isaac before sighing. He patted his back again, more natural and comforting this time, and stood up, nudging his arm, “Let’s take a walk.”

When they were far enough away from the house that Peter knew the other wolves couldn’t hear if he talked in a louder voice, he started talking to Isaac, who looked absolutely miserable.  
“Isaac. I can tell you something, but only if you keep it a secret from the rest of the pack,” He said seriously.   
“Except Lydia,” he adds.  
“Ok?” Isaac said excitedly.  
“Stiles is ok.” Peter said, earning a huge shocked, surprised, completely thrilled and relieved smile from Isaac. Peter continued, “He left a couple weeks ago to go upstate. Lydia, Deaton, and Stiles’ dad know about it and so do I. But that pack doesn’t and Stiles wants to keep it that way.”  
“Stiles is ok.” Isaac said, almost assuring himself. He immediately brightened up, “He’s ok?”  
“He’s perfectly fine.” Peter smiled, “I’m actually going to go see him later today. I can call you when I get there and give him the phone if you want to talk to him, would that be ok?”  
“Oh yes!” Isaac nodded, “Yes, yes please. Thank you Peter.”  
“You feel better?” Peter asked.  
“Yeah,” Isaac said, and he looked better.  
Peter smiled and clasped his shoulder, “But you can’t tell the pack, understand? And Stiles would also want you to stay. You sadly can’t come with me, although Stiles would love to see you, you have to stay here.”  
“I won’t tell anyone,” Isaac promised, “And I understand.”  
Peter and Isaac walked back to the house and Peter got in his car, winking at Isaac.  
“He’s ok,” Isaac said, relieved. A smile, a genuine smile appeared on the boy’s face and Peter had to smirk. If Stiles would forgive anyone else, it would be Isaac. 

Today Stiles was laying on his couch when the doorbell rang in his apartment. Stiles looked at the door and willed his mind to flip the lock.   
“It’s open!”  
Peter walked in with a huge grin on his face, “Hey Stiles.”   
Seeing Peter was a regular; he often checked in with Stiles whenever he could, giving him an update on what was going on at Beacon Hills.   
“Peter!” Stiles grinned. He had Peter had gotten even closer and he swiped his finger, pulling up a chair for Peter to crash in.  
“Woah, you’re making good progress,” Peter noted, sitting down.   
Stiles grinned, so far, telekinesis and energy surges were his top 2 powers, along with advanced combat, at least when he was fully energized. If he doesn’t have his power, all of that is useless and he’s back to being regular Stiles, which he doesn’t like. Regular Stiles isn’t really welcome here.   
Stiles leans back in his chair, “So what’s the scoop?”  
“Well, they’re pissed they can’t find you. I don’t think they expect me, or Lydia either. But they’re not giving up looking. Your dad threatened Derek with a shotgun to the forehead so I don’t think they are going back to his place, especially since I’m usually there. I’ve attended most of their meetings, but yesterday’s had to take the cake. I think that’s why I’m here. I had to tell you.” Peter settles into the chair, his eyes gleaming, “So Derek was being an idiot as usual and Lydia just lost it. Scott doesn’t know what to think so neither does his whole pack, but Derek, is deluded. Lydia was really fired up, she yelled at Scott and did a pretty good job with it. But anyway, Jackson said something about having you gone and crap and Lydia blew up at him. Derek stepped in to defend him and...well Lydia slapped him, in the face. Hard.”  
“Lydia slapped Derek?” Stiles hooted, laughing, his eyes wide.  
“I know! And then she screamed at him. At all of them.” Peter grins, and his story is done. He clasps his hands, “She’s really happy for you by the way, I’ve shown her pictures when I go back.”  
“Good. I miss her a lot,” Stiles says, remembering their kiss.   
“Oh but Stiles, Isaac needs to talk to you. He really does, he’s going crazy Stiles. He’s guilty and sad and so I told him that you were ok and that I talk to you and next time I see you, I would call him so he can talk to you. Would that be ok?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged, “yeah that’s fine.”  
Peter nodded, pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Stiles heard Isaac answer on the other end and he had to smile at his friend’s young voice. He had thought of Isaac as a younger brother to him.   
“Hi Isaac, it’s Peter. I have someone you might want to talk to.”   
Peter handed the phone to Stiles and waved him away. Stiles took the phone and got up, hissing to Peter, “Don’t drink my Pepsi.” Then he put the phone to his ear, “Isaac?”  
He heard the commotion stop on the other line and a timid and questioning voice rang out.   
“Stiles?”  
“Hey Isaac,” Stiles said softly, “Hey buddy.”  
“Stiles! Stiles, hi!”  
“Hi Isaac,” Stiles laughed.  
“Oh Stiles I’m so sorry. For everything,” Isaac says, “You know you were always there for me with my nightmares and when I was sad and you were always there and then when they...and I didn’t...Stiles I’m so sorry. They said it would protect you and I couldn’t let you get hurt, but then when-”  
Stiles didn’t want to allow Isaac to beat himself up anymore so he stopped him, “Isaac!” He spoke forcefully, “Isaac listen to me. I’m not mad at you. Ok? I’m sorry I didn’t come tell you myself, but I’m not mad at you, ok? I promise.”  
Stiles waits for the small voice to weakly respond, “Okay. Thanks.”   
Stiles nods even though he knows Isaac can’t see him. Then he speaks again, “Isaac you have to stay with them, if you don’t, you’ll be in danger. I’m ok Isaac. I’m sorry I left but I had to. But I’m ok and everything’s going to be fine.”  
There’s silence on the other end of the line, and Stiles smiles, thinking of Isaac’s bright face, holding back tears, happy. He waits for Isaac to say something, which he does.  
“Do you really mean that Stiles?”  
“Of course I do Isaac.”  
“So does that mean you’ll come back?” Isaac asks hopefully, sniffing a little.   
Stiles sighs, “No Isaac, I- I can’t. Not yet.”  
“When?”  
“Soon,” Stiles smiles.  
“But...Stiles...” Stiles hates how Isaac’s voice breaks towards the end.   
“Isaac you’re strong. You’ve got to believe in yourself.” Stiles purses his lips, “For the love of God Isaac, stop trying to convince yourself you’re weak. You’re incredible, and brave, and powerful. And I need you to be brave now, and stay there and fight. Keep them safe. And I’ll be back to help when I’m ready ok? I promise.”  
“You promise?” Isaac asks.   
“Hope to die and cross my heart,” Stiles says, an old joke of theirs. He hears Isaac let out a soft chuckle.  
“Ok,” Isaac says slowly.  
“Look, I have to go. Take care of everyone for me. And tell Lydia I miss her. And I miss you too buddy. You can talk to Peter or Lydia anytime. They come visit me once in a while, ok? And you can come too.”  
“Yeah. Yeah ok. I will.”  
Stiles holds back tears, “Alright take care Isaac.”  
“Bye Stiles.”  
“Bye.” Stiles hangs up the phone and holds it tightly, walking back to Peter who is drinking his Pepsi.   
“You’re obnoxious,” Stiles shakes his head and hands him back his phone.   
“Oh I’m hurt,” Peter grinned, before he looks at the phone, shoving it in his pocket, “The poor kid. Well, thanks. He needed that,” Peter says before standing up.  
“Look there’s a place I’ve got to be and you have training so I’m gonna get out of your hair. I’ll come back soon ok? It’s good to see you Stiles.”  
“You too Peter. Take the Pepsi,” Stiles grins, walking him out.   
Peter winks and heads out the door, “My pleasure. Next time, have some Diet, would you?”  
“Anything else?” Stiles asked sarcastically, “Should I make a list?”  
“Yeah, um, chips, and those tiny sandwiches-”  
Stiles laughs and flicks his finger, slamming the door shut on Peter with a loud, ”BYE!”  
“Don’t forget the sandwiches!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update coming tmrw as well, which is going to be a good one so brace yourself!


	6. Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short ish chapter but next one will be longer I promise :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Thank you for all the comments and kudos!

Stiles was asleep one night when his conscious suddenly urged him awake. Stiles' eyes snapped open and he bit his lip to stop himself from breathing hard. His sheets were twisted tightly around his legs and he was soaked in sweat. His head was face down in the pillow he was gripping in his fists and Stiles heard movement behind him. He blinked, instantly awake and slowly turned, to stare right down a barrel of a gun that was pointed at his head. Stiles gulped back his fear and sat up on his elbows, steadying his breathing and looking past the gun. A dark figure stood there, and all Stiles could see clearly were his eyes. His dark red eyes. He motioned for Stiles to stand up, and not wanting to get shot, Stiles obliged. He tried to stop himself from shaking as the werewolf got behind him and dug the muzzle into his spine. Stiles winced, “Alright alright. I’m going.”  
He was led into his living room and within the 7 seconds of walking, Stiles had a plan established of what he would do. When he got into the living room however, the plan was crumpled into a ball and flushed down the toilet. Another alpha was tied to one of his kitchen chairs, and he lifted his head. His face was bloodied and he was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, his eyes gleaming. There was a gag in his mouth and he was clenching down on it, hard, as if it helped with the pain he was clearly in. Cuts turned his clothes red.  
Stiles felt his confidence leave him, his knees shaking. His mouth was suddenly so dry and he clenched his fists.  
“Scott?” he whispered.  
The man who was behind him went over to Scott and leveled the gun at him.  
“No!” Stiles shouted, stepping forward, but as he did the gun got closer to Scott’s head and Stiles froze.  
“Stiles,” Scott murmured through the gag. Stiles’ heart felt like it was being gripped by a cold fist. He couldn’t have his best friend in pain like this, not matter what he had done to him.  
“Just let him go,” Stiles said calmly.  
The wolf seemed to smile, moving closer to Scott who flinched.  
“What do you want?” Stiles asked, his mind swirling.  
The wolf didn’t answer.  
“What do you want?!” Stiles yelled, “Whatever it is, you don’t need to bring Scott into this. We can talk about this.”  
The wolf cocked his head and Stiles finally got to hear his rough low voice mutter, ”Hear that Scotty? He wants to talk.”  
The wolf’s claws gleamed in the dark room and they pierced Scott’s chin, turning his head so Scott looked directly at Stiles.  
“He tried to protect you Stiles. But he failed. You’ve said it yourself, he’s nothing to you. Why can’t I just kill him?”  
“I never-” Stiles growls, “You’re not going to kill Scott.”  
“Why not?” The werewolf questioned, digging his claws deeper into Scott’s chin so that he winced, jerking in the chair.  
“Because he’s my brother,” Stiles said breathlessly, “He’ll always be my brother.”  
“In that case,” the wolf said, cocking the gun.  
“NO!”  
And Stiles awoke screaming.  
He kicked his legs, soaked in sweat, breathing hard. Stiles looked down and saw his hands shaking as he held them in fists to his head, rubbing his wet hair. He lunged out of bed and ran for his phone, going to blocked numbers, his fingers trembling as he scrolled.  
There. He pushed it without thinking, still breathing hard and waited, his heartbeat abnormally fast. There was an excruciating half a minute to wait before someone picked up.  
“Stiles?”  
“Scott!” he said urgently, “Are you ok?”  
“Stiles!” Scott repeated.  
“Scott answer the question!” Stiles yelled.  
“Yeah I’m-I’m fine, Stiles I’m sorry I- we’ve been looking for you everywhere I’ve tried calling- we-”  
“Goodbye Scott,” Stiles said firmly.  
“Wait Stiles, wait-” Scott pleaded.  
Stiles pushed the red button and then brought the phone to his chest, still shaking. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall back asleep that night.

“So you called Scott,” Isaac said, taking a bite of his sub.  
He, Lydia, Stiles, Peter and the Sheriff were all sitting around Stiles’ dining room table.  
“Yeah,” Stiles said, leaning back in his chair, wiping his hands on his jeans.  
Lydia brushed his hand, “What happened? He wouldn’t tell us much, just that you sounded terrified.”  
“Yeah I had a bad dream,” Stiles said, “It was a little too vivid and real and it involved Scott. So I called him, just to make sure it wasn’t. And then I, uh, hung up.”  
“What happened?” Peter asked.  
“Just a bad dream. Look as much as I hate them, I can’t see them get hurt.”  
Everyone nodded, silent. Stiles looked around and smiled. This was his family.  
“Well- gosh I swear, this fork-” Peter was trying to poke a piece of pasta that kept sliding around his plate. “Gosh dangit!” Peter barked. He looked up and everyone was snickering as Stiles finger was moving in perfect sync with the pasta. He glared and Stiles laughed, putting up his hands, “I’m innocent.”  
“Sure you are.”

Later that night, Stiles lay awake, staring at his ceiling.  
“Why did he do it?” Stiles wondered allowed.  
Why did Scott do it? He slowly got out of bed and went to get a drink of water but before he even got out of his room he sank to the floor by his wall, slowing sliding to the ground. Stiles pressed his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He missed his best friend. He was pissed as heck at him, but he still missed him. He missed Scott.

Scott lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone was in his hand in case Stiles called again.  
“Why did I do it?” he muttered to himself. He was stupid and careless...he should never have pushed Stiles away. Scott got up to walk around but before he even made it to the door he felt a wave of stress knock him down. Scott sank to the floor and backed into a wall, pushing his head against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut. He missed his best friend. He knew he was pissed as heck at him, but he still missed him. He missed Stiles.

[some time later]

Stiles punched the punching bag hard, again and again. Sometimes it was one of those monsters they had fought, sometimes that werewolf he had a nightmare of, sometimes it was those bullies at school that wouldn’t dare bully him now. Today it was a punching bag. The door opened behind him and Stiles turned around. It was his dad. Stiles grinned and wiped his face with a towel before he crossed the room to give his father a hug.  
“You’ve grown!” His father laughed.  
“No I haven’t dad. I’m still the same height as you,” Stiles grinned, before opening the fridge and offering his dad a water, “So what’s the occasion?”  
“Well Peter was going to come but I figured, hey I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t I tell you myself,” his dad said slowly, taking a gulp of the drink.  
Stiles put his water down on the counter. Uh oh.  
“Things haven’t been good in Beacon Hills. There’s something big here, and it’s killing werewolves. None of the pack, just others. It’s like it’s waiting for them.”  
“To do what?” Stiles asked.  
“They don’t know,” His dad confessed.  
“Why are you telling me?” Stiles asked wearily.  
“Because Stiles, I know you hate them, but you don’t hate them enough to let them get killed. And I know you care about Peter, Isaac, and Lydia. And me. And frankly, Beacon Hills. This is bigger than just killing a few wolves. It’s getting harder and harder to cover the supernatural world up. I’m losing men Stiles. They’re quitting out of fear. I’ve had 2 severe injuries within the past week or two. And,” his dad looked nervous, “people are getting suspicious about Parish. I can’t lose him Stiles, or let him get hurt. He’s my best deputy and he’s always been like a brother to you. I’d feel responsible if anything happened to him.”  
The Sheriff walks toward Stiles and puts his hands on his shoulders, “Look, I know you may not be ready to come back yet, but we need you. I need you Stiles. And you’re ready. You’ve been training for weeks- months, however that time thing works…but whether they’re ready to admit it or not, you are their leader, and they need your help Stiles.”  
Stiles let the words sink in, thoughts bouncing around in his head. He finally made up his mind.  
“I won’t come as me. They can’t know it’s me. Can you make that work?” Stiles asked after a minute of hesitation.  
“Yes. I can do that,” his dad assured him. He smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly, “That’s my boy.” Stiles grinned back. It was then Stiles noticed the grey hairs and the tired face his dad had and that made him confident in his decision. He wasn’t doing this for his old pack, he was doing it for his new one, and Beacon Hills. 

“Now, you all have to be respectful,” his dad warned, “He’s powerful, and he’s here to help. He cares about this town, but he’s got a temper. Don’t piss him off.”  
“What’s his name?” Derek asks the Sheriff.  
Stiles hears his dad answer from behind the door.  
“He goes by Mischief.”  
They had decided on that. Stiles hadn’t told Lydia or Isaac he was back to help so they would have to figure it out on their own. He would tell them in his own way. Peter of course knew, but he was going to be too busy enjoying the pack’s reactions to mess anything up. He hadn't seen them in a long time; he had been out of town. About 2 weeks had gone by and Stiles never got around to calling either of them. He thought of it when his dad came, but then decided against it. It would be better if they didn't know.  
“That’s a stupid name,” That was Erica- he could tell by the annoying whine.  
“Some might say so is Erica,” Stiles said quietly, lowering his voice a little. He opened the door and walked in, shutting it behind him with a flick of his finger. He made the lights dim a little which made the pack a little uneasy when they realized the amount of power he had. Stiles was dressed for combat, with ankle high hiking boots, jeans and a grey shirt and a army jacket with a black hood that darkened his face. He had cargo pants and sunglasses on. His appearance was shifting to someone else as he spoke, his eyes went blue, his hair a lighter, brown (it had already gotten longer from when they had known them and it wasn’t spiked up like usual), and his nose different. He kept everything else the same, including his voice.  
He saw Lydia staring at him, a little unsure, and Isaac standing in the back of the room, watching Lydia’s expression.  
The Sheriff suppresses a smile, “Well, you’ve been introduced, I will leave you to it.” He put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and locked eyes with him, “Good luck.”  
“Thank you,” Stiles said.  
He turned to face his old pack who were staring at him nervously. Stiles had to admit he was intimidating and that kinda made him pleased. He got a good look at everyone that had hurt him. His gaze was mostly on Scott and Derek, whose arms were crossed over their chests and were staring suspiciously at them.  
Derek spoke first, “Mischief- is it alright to call you that? Do you have a name?”  
Yes I do have a name, thought Stiles and he said, “Mischief is fine.”  
“Ok,” Derek nods before standing straighter, “well we’re here to answer any questions and we hope that you can work with us to protect Beacon Hills from these new threats.”  
Stiles nods slowly, “That is the plan.”  
“How did you get here?” Jackson asks, “Did you go through a portal or something?”  
“Oh yes, before this I was on Mars,” Stiles drawls sarcastically.  
“Woah, really?” Jackson says, his eyes widening.  
“No you idiot, I drove. My car’s out front,” Stiles shook his head. He unfortunately had to leave his Jeep upstate. He knew every single one of them would recognize that car.  
Stiles then claps his hands, “So this threat of yours-”  
Derek interrupts, “You remind me of someone.” The wolf is staring at him intently.  
“The voice maybe, I recognize it...I’m not sure,” Derek wonders aloud.  
“Is that so?” Stiles asks calmly.  
“Yeah, have we met?” Derek asks suspiciously.  
“I think I would remember meeting someone like you,” Stiles says, “overconfident, controlling, tempered…you cover up your weaknesses by being angry. Big bad wolf huh? But on the inside you’re full of pain. But no one can see that, can they? Well I can. I have a knack for reading people,” Stiles said.  
Derek’s betas seem uncomfortable; they are shifting their stance and watching their Alpha wearily. Derek doesn’t seem phased; he’s lost in deep thought and it takes Stiles a minute to realize Derek’s reading him.  
“Cut it out,” Stiles snaps and Derek blinks, a little surprised that Stiles could tell.  
“You’re angry and confused,” Derek notes, his voice a little soft, “and I’m not the only one who’s in pain.”  
Stiles snaps his head up and speaks articulately and confidently, not backing down to the wolf as he’s used to people doing in the past. This time Stiles doesn’t hide the flare in his eyes, “Everyone has a history. Mine isn’t pleasant. It’s left scars that may never heal. Everyone has their stories.” Stiles controls himself before he can reveal to much and looks up at Derek.  
“Now I would gladly leave if we’re all going to sit in a circle and talk about our lives, or can I be on my way after I eliminate whatever’s killing all the werewolves?”  
Now it’s Scott who talks, “Not sit in a circle, but I for one, would like to know who I’m partnering with.”  
Stiles is surprised Scott’s being so reasonable and he sighs, giving in. Time to let Lydia know who he is. It may be soon, but he’s missed her a lot, and he loves her. Stiles realizes it’s the first time he’s thought that, but he loves her again. And she deserves to know.  
“Well, what can I say? I love the Mets,” he says, looking straight at Lydia, “My favorite colors are orange and blue.” He sees her knit his eyebrows, “Sometimes there’s things that you wouldn’t think would be a good combination, and they end up turning out to be the perfect one.”  
He sees Lydia’s lips part slightly and she lets out a little gasp, unheard by most but Stiles sees it and gives her a quick smile. She grins, hand over her mouth before composing herself, but she can’t hide the gleam in her eyes. Stiles smirks under his hood and rubs his chin, “What else do you want me to say? Where I went to school, what pet I want, if I had 3 wishes what would they be? Let’s see that’s world peace, an unlimited supply of money-”  
“How did you do that thing with the lights?” Scott snarled.  
“I’ve trained in the arts of Dark Magic,” Stiles said and he sighed when everyone tensed, “Relax, I’m not evil. The energy is only corrupted when it has an evil host.”  
“So you’re on our side?” Boyd asks, calm and collected, as usual.  
Stiles sighs, “To be honest, I’m not too fond of most of you. I am not on anyone’s side, I am just here to help. We are acquaintances and partners. That is all. But I won’t try and kill any of you if that’s what you’re saying.” Stiles looks directly to Isaac, “Hope to die and cross my heart.”  
Isaac blinks once, registering the words, as the others around him have confused looks on their faces. Isaac’s jaw drops and he looks like he’s trying to take in air and failing. Lydia discreetly moves over to him and grabs his arm and Isaac closes his mouth, turning it into a grin and smiling wide at Stiles.  
“Now, if we’re done with the chit chat, I would like to carry on with the reason I’m here.” Stiles looks at the faces around him, “Do we have a plan of attack?”  
Derek and Scott trade glances and look at each other. Scott shakes his head, “Not exactly.”  
Stiles sighs, “Well then I suggest you two put your heads together and make one.”  
Stiles can’t hide the anger and resentfulness in his voice and he’s really glad for his hood so Scott and Derek can’t see his glare. 

Stiles gets Lydia and Isaac alone about 4 hours later, outside in the woods behind the Hale House. Lydia rushes out the door and Stiles barely has time to turn around before she crushes him into a hug. Stiles changes back into his normal form, his favorite white shirt with a dark blue collar, jeans, a red jacket hoodie, and grey sneakers. He hugs Lydia tight and when she pulls away to look at him he kisses her. He doesn’t want to let go but he knows he has to and they part. Lydia cups his cheeks, running her hand through his hair that’s grown since she’s seen him last because of the time thing he had learned to master. “I like the hairstyle,” she mutters, softly kissing him again.  
“Next time I come I’m thinking of getting a Mohawk. What do you think?” He jokes.  
She smiles up at him, “Oh my God,” she laughs, “I’ve missed you.”  
“I’ve missed you too Lyd,” Stiles says softly, kissing her gently again. Isaac walks calmly out of the house before breaking into a sprint the minute the door shuts. He tackles Stiles with a hug.  
“Hey Isaac! Told you I would come back to Beacon Hills,” Stiles says, holding the young beta tightly against him.  
“For good?” Isaac asks.  
Stiles face falls a bit but he forces a smile, “No not yet, but I couldn’t leave you hanging now could I?”  
“Are you going to tell them?” Lydia asks.  
Stiles shakes his head, then shrugs, “If one finds out, I won’t deny it, but I do want to keep it under wraps for as long as I can. I bet Derek will figure it out eventually,” (Stiles practically spits the name Derek), “but until then, I’m not going to say anything. And please, you two don’t say anything either.”  
“We won’t,” Lydia promises. Isaac nods in agreement.  
Lydia rubs his arm, “You might want to tone it down with the sarcasm, or they may figure it out.”  
Stiles smiles and laughs, “Okay.” There’s a warm feeling in his chest. A feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. Coming back was worth it for these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for next chapter! Things will ramp up VERY quickly!


	7. No Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter i know, but it's packed! Oh get it? Pack? Haha anyway, Derek's plan sucks and everything goes wrong.  
> Enjoy!

“THIS WAS YOUR PLAN?” Stiles shouts, spinning and flicking a tree into a Fenrir’s path, “To get us all killed?”  
Derek slashes at another, “No! The plan didn’t work!”  
“Obviously!” Stiles shouts, pushing Derek out of the way as a Fenrir lunges for him from behind.  
“Thanks,” Derek says breathlessly.  
“Yeah, well know I take no pleasure in doing it,” Stiles grumbles under his breath, forgetting the werewolf has enhanced hearing. Derek doesn’t say anything.  
Stiles is having a hard time keeping his disguise up; Lydia shoots him a look every once in a while and Stiles forces himself to concentrate. His ears are ringing from Lydia’s screams as she blows back Fenrirs that come close. She’s standing in the middle of them all. Stiles looks around out of the corners of his eyes as he fights. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were working as a team, back to back, slashing and punching in a circle, a whirlwind of claws and fangs. Jackson had turned into kanima form and was using his tail and venom to only slow down these Fenrir. They just keep coming. The fact that it takes Jackson 5 deep swipes to disable a Fenrir makes Stiles queasy. Malia and Scott are side by side, working together without talking, snarling and roaring as they held back their side of the circle the pack and Stiles had made. Stiles was the only reason they were still all alive. He was keeping his ring of fire up around them all, slowing the wolves down, using his mind to toss them into each other or throwing them into trees, even engaging in hand to hand when one got to close for his liking. He had also had saved a couple of their butts, smacking a Fenrir off Scott when it was about to rip his throat out and slamming a tree into one about to bite Isaac’s face off. Stiles was getting tired, the veins on his hands losing their odd glow, his movements slowing. Everyone else was tired as well, the wolves were getting closer and his friends weren’t healing as fast. Lydia’s voice was getting hoarse, Isaac and Erica and Boyd were losing their ground, Malia had been knocked down and Scott had taken on 3 wolves at once to shield her as she struggled to her feet. Derek was stumbling, staggering, making blind swipes out in rage.  
Stiles knew his magic couldn’t last forever. There were too many and now they had wrapped around them in a tight circle, slowly closing them in. Stiles knew what he had to do. He shoved 5 beasts away from Derek and pulled the wounded and tired wolf to his feet. Stiles gripped Derek’s shoulders, “Run! I’ll hold them all off-”  
A Fenrir swiped it’s claws and caught Stiles in the back. He howled in pain,feeling blood dripping down his skin and he whipped around, extending his hands. The wolf was blown backward so forcefully that it hit the tree with a loud CRACK, before it fell limp to the ground, seemingly dead. Stiles was breathing hard and he turned and winced, his hands shaking as he focused back to Derek, “Get everyone out of here, don’t wait for me-”  
“Stiles?” Derek gasps in disbelief. Stiles freezes. It’s the first time Derek’s said his name in a very long time. Stiles figures his disguise in gone because he’s not really focused on that, he’s saving his energy and he knew he lost control the minute that claw dug into his back. He realizes his hood is also down and his thoughts are confirmed as Derek’s eyes scan his whole face in awe. Stiles doesn’t know what to do. Derek is blinking, in shock, angry, hurt, scared, relieved, happy, confused, and completely freaked out.  
Prioritize Stiles! Save them! Snap out of it!  
“Derek did you hear me?” Stiles demands, trying to ignore all of the pain that’s going through his head and heart right now because it’s possible that Derek and the rest of his old friends could die. Stiles glares hard at Derek, “I just remembered how much I hate you. Get out of here. Now!” That seems to thaw the trance Derek’s in a little bit.  
“Stiles?” Derek asks again, “Stiles?” He looks like an idiot, dumbfounded, jaw open, blinking and looking him over. An asteroid could have hit the Earth and Derek wouldn’t have noticed.  
“Yeah it’s me, you friggin idiot, now go!” Stiles yells at him, “Go!”  
Derek doesn’t move fast enough for Stiles’ liking and so he shoves him away with a flick of his finger. Derek grabs Scott and Malia and growls for his betas. Lydia’s already with him, but she doesn’t realize Stiles isn’t behind them. Derek turns around one more time as Stiles clears a path for them, knocking Fenrir into trees.  
“Run!” Stiles screams. Derek curses, and for once Stiles thinks he sees tears in the sourwolf's eyes. But Derek understands what Stiles is asking him to do and as much as he doesn’t want to (Stiles can tell) he nods and turns, leading the pack in a sprint away from him. Stiles takes a deep breath and then he releases all of his energy at once, slamming his palms into the ground. Red streams erupt from the ground, sinking into the wolves running at him, disintegrating the grass around him.  
Stiles looks over his shoulder and sees Lydia, crying and pleading but being pulled away by Derek’s strong arms. Stiles smiled weakly at her and mouths I love you.  
Then he moves his gaze and for a second, he and Scott lock eyes. His old best friend’s stare is filled with wonder and awe and complete and utter confusion. Stiles glares at Scott out of pure habit and then realizes he doesn’t want that to be his last glance he and Scott have. He kills his frown and nods at him, smirking a little as he remembers all the good times he and Scott shared. He winked sadly at his old brother before breaking eye contact, looking for Derek and giving him a jerk of his head. GO!  
Stiles can’t talk, his mouth is dry and his arms are tense. He’s on all fours, just surging, surging...he doesn’t turn around and check if they got out safely, he just lets all the energy out, not stopping because the howls and roars of the Fenrir keep coming. But the pain becomes too great, the ringing in his head gets too loud, the sound of his heartbeat is too bone rattling and Stiles feels his body collapsing in on himself, buckling under his own weight. Eventually Stiles lets out a long yell of pain and anger and exhaustion and finally falls forward, shuddering on the ground, in a lot of pain, weak and slowly losing consciousness. He’s flat on his back, gasping and shaking, his fingers twitching, his eyes scrunching up tight and then blinking. Stiles can’t move even as the Fenrir bound toward him.  
He never should have come here. Now he’s going to die. And he never got to say goodbye to his dad. He sees the snarl, and the fangs, and the claws and he definitely sees the paw come down towards his head. He feels the hit alright, but when he sinks into darkness, the feels pain floating away, it doesn’t seem like death, just unconsciousness. Which, Stiles decides, is probably going to be worse. 

Derek is still trying to process what was happening. That was Stiles who had saved them. Stiles’ voice Derek should have recognized. Stiles’ sarcasm Derek should have picked up on. Stiles’ bravery, his courage, the fact that he returned to help them, despite everything they had put him through. Derek wished he had never told Stiles to leave. But now he was the one leaving, grabbing a screaming and pleading Lydia as he led his pack out of the woods, leaving behind Stiles, yet again. For one of the few moments in his dark life, Derek felt tears running down his cheeks. 

Maybe Stilinski wasn’t so bad after all, Jackson thought. He wished he could said sorry, but he had a bad feeling that he would never get to. 

“He saved us,” Erica said softly to Boyd.  
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Boyd panted, his chest ripped open and bleeding.  
“No. Not just here. In the basement. And we never…” Erica couldn’t finish. She couldn’t believe she had thought so low of the human. Boyd hung his head.  
“I’m sorry Stiles,” She whispered in the wind, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

“Stiles,” Isaac choked, but he couldn’t ignore his alpha’s growl as he ran away from his best friend, tears pouring down his face like waterfalls. He had just gotten Stiles back, and now he was afraid that he just lost him again. Forever. 

Lydia fought Derek’s strong arms as he pulled her away.  
“No!” She screamed, “What about Stiles! We have to get Stiles! Derek!”  
Through her blurry gaze she could still see him, on all fours, in pain, sacrificing himself for them. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. With eyes full of tears she saw him mouth, I love you. Lydia’s heart shattered. And she never got to say goodbye. She cried out, but Derek wouldn’t let her go, his mouth in a tight line, looking as miserable as she did. Lydia felt something deep in her chest, a feeling she got many times, and it was never wrong. It shook her to her core and only made the tears fall harder. 

Scott heard Derek say, “Stiles?”  
Everything had happened so fast.  
Before Scott knew it he was being pushed away from the front and towards the woods. He turned and saw Mischief. Mischief. Mieczysław. Stiles. He should have know. How could he be so stupid? He should have known from the start. Scott locked eyes with his best friend. Stiles glared at him and Scott felt miserable but suddenly the glare stopped, and Stiles gave a little smirk. Scott felt tears come to his eyes as he realized what Stiles was doing with his energy, and what the smirk meant. They both didn’t want the last look between them to be full of anger. Stiles nodded at him and then winked sadly, and Scott wanted to turn around and run to his friend, protect him, save him, die for him, anything. But Derek had already grabbed his collar and pulled him forward. Scott hated himself for running. He never ran. But Stiles wasn’t going to die for nothing. They would get out of this. 

At least that’s what he thought until they saw the line of Fenrir waiting for them. Alphas- Scott could tell because of their eyes. His heart dropped, realizing they had been tricked. A claw slashed through Scott’s chest before he could react and he fell to his knees, but nothing hurt more than hearing a strangled cry of agony from behind him that came from only one person. His best friend. The ground rumbled and it was just enough to knock Scott off balance. He collapsed immediately, tears falling onto the grass, and then all he saw was black.  
His last thought was the smirk on his best friend’s face, Stiles’ face, whenever Scott would look over at him in his jeep, driving back home from lacrosse practice.

Stiles wakes up weak. Not just tired, but physically weak. He opens his eyes and blinks, trying to move but he sees he’s been strapped to a metal table, his wrists and ankles rubbing against the rough leather straps. Stiles almost scoffs, and he concentrates. It’s almost too easy to get these off; he’s trained in telekinesis for the past couple months so this should be a piece of cake. But it’s taking Stiles longer than he expected and he’s starting to freak out. It won’t work. He focussed on the light bulb across the room and wills it to dim. It continues to shine bright -blinding bright. What the heck is going on? Stiles starts to panic, until someone walks in.  
“Do you feel different, Stiles?” The cold voice asks, the figure lurking in the shadows. Stiles yanks the wrist straps because that’s the only thing he can do.  
“What did you do to me?” He demands.  
It’s then he sees the small needles poking out of his veins and he follows the tube with his eyes, his gaze landing on a small container that has dark energy swirling inside.  
“No. That’s impossible.” Stiles can’t breathe, and he yanks the straps again, thrashing angrily.  
“Nothing’s impossible,” The man says, and Stiles can see his claws flash in the dark shadows. Stiles is angry and he snarls, “It belongs to me!”  
The man steps out of the shadows. His face is hairy and rugged, like a werewolf in the middle of a change. He has sharp claws and fangs, but he’s mostly human. His eyes glow dark red, like magenta, not bright like Scott’s or Derek’s.  
“Puberty not work out for ya huh?” Stiles mumbles. He hates his stupid smart aleck mouth sometimes, but right now, he’s got no one to save him and nothing to protect himself. His pack will probably forget about him, discard him like they did last time. Probably kick Lydia and Isaac out while they’re at it. So really...who gives a crap? He had nothing to lose.  
Stiles glares at the man as he walks over to Stiles calmly and looks him over, inspecting him.  
“What do you want with me?” Stiles asks, trying so hard not to tremble as a claw digs into his chin, turning it side to side, “Why didn’t you kill me?”  
“You’re the,” the man rubs his chin with his other hand, “how do I put it? Collateral damage,” the man smiles.  
“But see when I grow up, I wanted to go into the FBI, so I’ll pass,” Stiles says.  
“You’ve got a mouth young man,” he raises an amused eyebrow.  
“Sure hope I do. That’s a keen observation by the way.”  
The man smirks, “Quite an attitude. Let’s see if that lasts.”  
“Lasts through what?” Stiles demands as the man walks away, “What are you going to do to me? Look, if you want me for my pack, I’m dead meat to them. They kicked me out. They want nothing to do with me. I only saved them to save Beacon Hills. There are innocent people here that I’ve spent over half my life with.”  
“I would have to disagree Stiles,” The man tisks, making his way across the room.  
Stiles tries to pull one of his wrists through the strap with no avail and then pleads, “Just leave the town alone and do whatever you want to me.”  
“A brave thing to say Stiles, but we have other plans for you.”  
“Who’s we?” Stiles asks, just as the door opens and two more Alphas come in.  
“Well they just get uglier and uglier,” Stiles forces a laugh.  
“Pleased to meet you,” The one says, punching him hard across the face.  
Stiles groans, blinking, his jaw stinging from the hit, “Wish I could say the same. Nice punch.”  
“Do whatever you want with him. You have exactly an hour.” The man walks out the door and there’s a lump in Stiles’ throat.  
The two Fenrir close in and Stiles braces himself for the pain.  
“So how about we get to know each other first?” he asks weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment your thoughts!
> 
> Mild torture in the next chapter??? :( It's not bad, but Stiles does take a beating. His sarcasm always helps to dumb things down.


	8. Save Your Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late. Enjoy and comment your thoughts!  
> Mild torture in this one, Stiles sarcasm, and a not so happy reunion with the pack :(

30 minutes later Stiles is crumpled on the floor. They had tortured him on the table, cutting into him with their claws, and Stiles couldn’t help but scream even though he tried so very hard not to. His shirt was ripped and torn and stained with blood and his whole body stung from dozens of cuts.  
“You all, would be terrible at operation,” he gasped out.  
He had tried in vain to use his powers before realizing he was useless; they were gone. He was just plain old Stiles.  
After that they had unhooked him and pushed over the table, letting him fall to the floor and groan. Stiles rubbed his raw wrists, just smearing the blood and tried to regain his voice that was weak from screaming.  
“How are you doing Stiles?” one taunted. He had nicknamed the older one Bob.  
“So far so good,” Stiles groans.  
Stiles’ anger and pain and aggression had been taken advantage of and because of it, just more pain. Punch after punch, Stiles puts up his arms to protect himself. He screamed in agony, blocking a swipe to the face but missing one to the shoulder; he was getting weaker.  
Kick after kick…  
Stiles lost count of the the hits he endured. His movements became sluggish and he curled into a ball, just taking the hits with cries of pain.  
“Have you heard of us Stiles? The Fenrir?”  
“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “Big bad wolves. You have a thing for people with red capes- oh wait my mistake, is it little piggies?”  
A foot sinks into him stomach and Stiles coughs, only for his head to be raised by a grip on his hair.  
“I’d watch your mouth boy,” the man warns.  
Stiles looks down cross-eyed, “Ok-”  
A fist hits him straight in the nose and he winces, his head cracking backhand hitting the wall.  
He’s dizzy and he weakly puts out a hand, his gaze unfocussed, “Jeanie, is that you? I can’t see that far. Jeanie?”  
The 2 Alphas back up, confused.  
“Oh my gosh. Ferris Bueller's day off? You uncultured swine,” Stiles shakes his head to get the dizziness out, acting stunned before planting a sharp kick in the Alpha’s groin. He stumbles back, groaning and holding his gut.  
“Oh I am so so sorry...muscle spasms, it happens,” Stiles shakes his head in shame only to get kicked across the face by a boot. Stiles splits out blood and forces himself up again.  
“Apologize,” the other alpha snarls.  
“Hope you can still have kids,” Stiles says as cheerfully as he can.  
That seems to send them both over the edge and for the next 15 minutes, Stiles doesn’t have much time to talk between the pain. He thinks he went unconscious, and he wishes he could stay that way, but he wakes up to waves of pain, sharp spikes that cause him to flinch and let out strangled screams from his hoarse and raw throat. He lay crumpled in a bloody, exhausted heap of agony on the floor. He had thought Gerard’s beating was bad, but this...this was much worse. The two Fenrir yelled for him to get up.  
Stiles gasps for breath, “You two...are jerks...you’d be great at Whack-a-Mole though...remind me to bring you to an arcade-”  
Another punch, knocking him flat on his back. Stiles coughed up blood on his side. Again they screamed at him to get up. Stiles couldn’t tell if they were in wolf form or human since his vision was blurry. But he knew he wouldn’t let them win. He slowly got on all fours, and then wobbily to his feet, only to have a fist come at him from the side, hitting him against the wall. Stiles felt his head hit the stone and he slid down to the floor again. He was breathing hard, his whole body in screaming pain, but he wouldn’t let them win. Each time they knocked him down. And each time Stiles got back up.  
“I’m like a Weeble. You guys play with those? You look old enough-”  
Another punch, this one almost bringing the blanket of unconsciousness. He was gasping on the floor, taking shuddery breaths, his whole body shaking and writhing in pain. His back was against the wall and Stiles coughed up blood, trying to blink away the tears clouding his vision. He saw the fist come back and then swing forward and Stiles limply just closed his eyes, prepared to take the punch. It never hit. The door had opened.  
“Saved by the bell,” Stiles said weakly. The fist hit him in the jaw, and Stiles fell on his side, gripping the ground with shaking hands.  
Stiles looked weakly from his spot on the cold stone floor toward the front of the room, the movement sending waves of pain through his broken body. It was the man from the beginning. The room was spinning, but Stiles was pretty sure that the man was smiling, baring his teeth in a wide, ugly, unsettling grin. Stiles felt sick to his stomach and he coughed again, limp against the floor.  
“Get a dental plan,” he muttered.  
“He’s still quite the comedian isn’t he?” the man nodded.  
“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week,” Stiles grinned, feeling blood drip down his chin from a cut on his lip.  
“It’s just to cover the pain isn’t it Stiles?” the man walks over and crouches by his side.Stiles forces himself upright and leans against the wall, one eye already swelling up.  
“I may look like crap, but I assure you, I feel absolutely wonderful,” Stiles slurred.  
The man laughed and pushed a finger into a cut on Stiles’ shoulder. He arched his back and clenched his teeth to keep from screaming, his eyes widening in pain. The man wiped his now bloody finger on his jeans and smiled at Stiles who sank limp against the wall with an explosion of breath.  
“You’re a...horrible person,” Stiles winces.  
“I’ve heard worse.”  
“I bet,” Stiles nods.  
“It’s time,” The man said, getting to his feet.  
A hand grasped his collar and yanked him to his feet. Stiles struggled to make his legs move, but settled on just being dragged.  
“Gently now, watch the door,” Stiles muttered.  
His weak and bloody hands grasped the strong ones around his shirt out of vain, as he stumbled with the men out the door and down the hall. They took a sharp turn down a smaller hallway and Stiles couldn’t help but notice the trail of blood he had been making. Red sticky liquid was running down the side of his mouth, trickling down his neck and he coughed up some to keep himself from choking.  
Next thing Stiles knew was that they were outside. Wet grass was beneath his feet and he was shoved to the ground. Exhausted, Stiles couldn’t put up his hands to protect himself so he just hit the grass hard with a nauseating ‘thump’, and sank into the ground, his eyes shut. The grass underneath him was immediately stained red and Stiles attempted to get to his knees. A boot hit his back and Stiles was crushed into the ground again, crying out in pain, gasping for air because it had been all knocked out of him. Even oxygen was hard to get because his lungs and ribs were screaming in pain, fiery hot and bruised. Every breath Stiles took burned. Maybe he shouldn’t breath at all. The pain would stop, that’s for sure.  
Then Stiles heard a strangled whimper from in front of him. He recognized it and lifted his head shakily to see Scott, his hands tied behind him to a metal gate than ran all the way down the length of the field. No. They were supposed to get out. No, this can’t be happening. He and Scott locked eyes and he couldn’t help but see the fear, anger and pain in Scott’s tearfilled gaze.  
“Stiles!” Scott’s voice cracks with emotion. He’s staring at him, relieved and horrified, and Stiles understands why. They thought he was dead. Stiles’ heart flutters a bit. Maybe his old friend still cared. Maybe he always cared. Stiles looked around and saw Scott wasn’t the only one here. Lydia sobs, a gag around her mouth. Stiles guesses they found out about her banshee scream. Anger heats up in his crushed chest.  
“No,” He croaks, but it’s barely heard.  
Jackson, Erica, and Boyd are looking down, shaking their heads, but it’s from shame, and not disappointment. Derek is looking at Stiles with an expression Stiles has never seen before. He seems clearly relieved he’s alive, but looks like he’s about to murder the person who practically painted Stiles’ red. Isaac is almost in tears, screaming his name. Malia’s lower lip is trembling. But Scott, Scott is definitely is the most angry. He’s breathing hard, nostrils flaring, but even without a werewolf nose, Stiles can smell the fear. Even though his eyes wide and threatening, but Scott knows he’s helpless. But it takes Stiles a minute to comprehend this, because his brain is trying to shut down on him, that Scott isn’t scared for himself or of the Alpha, he’s scared for Stiles.  
Stiles tries to push himself up again but his arms shake and give out on him. He’s helpless as they buckle underneath him. Stiles hits the ground and doesn’t have any energy left to raise himself on his palms, in fact, he can barely keep his eyes open. His mind is whining for him to close his eyes and sink into sleep. No. He can’t. He won’t.  
Stiles looks around from his spot against the grass, limp and weak, and he makes eye contact with Derek who is yanking against his bonds.  
“Let him go!” Derek roars, breaking the terrified silence.  
Scott raises his glare to the man behind him who is now crouched by Stiles’s side, and now that Derek has spoken, he’s found his voice, “What did you do to him?”  
“Simple,” the man says, prodding Stiles in the ribs with his foot, making Scott wince more than Stiles, “I took out his power. He’s just human now. A very hurt human,” the man smirks, smiling creepily at Scott who can only watch helplessly.  
"Look, do whatever you want to me, kill me instead just don't-" Scott pleads, fear in his red eyes.  
"Sorry, but that's off the table Scott,"the man tisks.  
The man kicks Stiles again and Stiles cries out weakly, curling away and holding his trembling, bloody hands to his side.  
“Stop it!” That’s Malia, baring her teeth and growling.  
“What do you want with us?” Scott asks.  
“This,” the man spreads his hands, “Revenge. The Beast was my cub. And you killed him. His aura came to me bleeding out and I had to watch him die right in front of me. It’s time I repaid the favor.”  
“No!” Derek shouts, the wolf desperate and angry.  
“Leave him alone!” Scott yells, yanking against the cords that lock him in place.  
The man walks over to Stiles who instinctively tries to crawl away.  
“Don’t touch him,” Scott hisses, his eyes glowing bright red.  
The man ignores Scott and grabs the back of Stiles’ collar and pulls, choking him as he yanks him at a weird angle to his knees. The man straightens, with a firm grip of Stiles’ chin.  
"I'll kill you," Scott promises, fury as plain as day, "I swear to God I'll kill you. Let him go."  
“Stiles look at your old friends,” the man hisses in his ear, forcing him to look, “they betrayed you, and now they’re going to watch you die,”  
Stiles panics, struggling in the grip but he can’t move because now there’s a grip in his hair, holding him in place and the man’s claws pierce the far side of his throat, drawing small drops of blood and making Stiles cry out.  
“No! No no no no no! Stop! Please don’t!” Scott yells desperately, "Stiles!"  
The man sinks his claws further and Stiles grits his teeth but a strangled scream is torn out.  
"LET HIM GO!" Scott’s eyes flash dangerously bright and lets out a long roar, suddenly ripping through the cords. He seems amazed at his own strength and he turns his glare to the man holding Stiles. It all happens in a matter of seconds, almost as fast as Stiles blinks. He sees Derek has done the same thing to his bonds and now he’s slashing free Jackson and Malia, the people closest to him. Jackson’s has room now to whip out his tail and he breaks Erica and Boyd out in one single swipe and they get to their feet, shifting immediately and baring their teeth. Isaac got out with the help of Derek and now he’s running for Lydia. Scott has lunged forward, tackling the man who is holding Stiles, cutting him slightly across the neck as the man’s claws are yanked away from him. The grip on his hair loosens as the man gets knocked to the floor by Scott, and Stiles, now that no one is forcing him upright, crumples to the ground. His cheek hits the bloodstained grass and he sinks into the ground, his eyes trying to close. No. Stay awake! Stiles! Stay...awake…  
Stiles is afraid if he falls asleep he’ll never wake up. He can’t move, the pain is too great and Stiles gets hit with another wave of agony, and a small whimper escapes from his lips.  
He sees the fight around him, Scott has thrown the man against the wall in anger and he’s lying there in a heap, blood trailing down his head. So now Scott and Derek are fighting 4 Fenrir at once, their anger fueling their adrenaline. The rest of their packs are taking care of the ones left over.  
It’s Lydia who dives to her knees by his side and holds his head in her lap. Her gag is limp around her neck and she’s shaking as she clutches him, “Stiles! Stay with me ok? Stay awake. Oh God Stiles,” her gaze shifts, looking him over head to toe, horror and shock in her gaze. He’s soaked in blood and barely conscious. Stiles reaches up groggily to brush a cut her forehead but she takes his hand, “I’m ok, I’m ok-”  
Stiles sees the figure behind her too late, his mouth parts to whisper a warning but he’s not fast enough. Lydia gets yanked up and smacked hard against the face. It’s not just a slap, it a werewolf punch to the head. Stiles’ heart stops as she goes flying, crumpling to the floor.  
“No,” Stiles whispers, his throat hoarse. It’s the man. He can tell because his maroon dark eyes are bearing down on Stiles. The eyes would haunt his nightmares.  
“Hi Stiles,” he taunts, stepping closer to him. Stiles is pleading, tears falling down his cheeks as he lays crumpled and exhausted, too weak to defend himself. The man kicks him in the stomach making Stiles cough up blood. Leaning down, his fingers snake around Stiles’ hair and he snarls, “I should’ve finished you off the first time.”  
He picks Stiles up with one hand and drags him to the middle of the circle, before reaching out a hand to curl around his throat. Stiles suddenly can’t breath and he gasps, kicking his legs and coughing.  
“Stiles!” That’s Isaac, who sees him first and the fighting slowly stops, each side backing down. Stiles can’t take in oxygen, he’s choking, he can feel his face getting red, his lungs burning. He’s grasping the hand that is wrapped firmly around his neck and squeezing, squeezing. Stiles’ legs are failing him as he kicks the ground and weakly punching the arm that has him held out for everyone to see. He’s choking, his lungs panicking, his eyes going wide. He needs air now.  
“No. Wait,” Scott growls angrily, but it’s weak and scared.  
Where’s Derek? Stiles can barely focus, his vision blurry and closing as his mouth opens and closes, trying to take in air, but he knows the wolf is not in front of him.  
“Now you’ll finally know what it means to lose someone Scott,” The man cries, gripping Stiles’ throat so tight, Stiles stops jerking and his head slowly sinks, losing consciousness. His vision closed up and he feels like he’s underwater now. His fingers twitch, his head jerking as his body tries to keep him alive. He slowly fades into blackness. Scott screams in anger, running forward, but he’s so far away, he’ll never make it, and Stiles is already gone. Then the hand releases and he feels a jolt from the hand. He gets a minimal amount of oxygen intake, his chest rising very slightly, but it’s enough to keep Stiles, who’s unconscious, alive. A gurgle sounds, but it’s not Stiles, it’s the Alpha behind him. Derek’s hand is covered in blood and Stiles raises his gaze weakly as his vision flickers back, then gone again. The man falls to his knees, his other hand holding his neck, blood seeping through his fingers. Derek had slashed the alphas neck from behind. The hand releases him and Stiles hits the floor, blacking out entirely. He’s racked with unimaginable pain, coughing slightly as his body tries to take in air but being unconscious and face down is grass isn’t helping. His lungs fill with desperately needed air, and it hurts, it hurts so bad. But Stiles knows he’s still breathing. And he’s relieved.

He hears bits and pieces of words, and strong hands pick him up, one hand around his back, one hand under his legs. Stiles slumps against whoever’s chest he’s against, breathing ragged breaths, his head lolling, his whole body limp and small.  
“Stiles!” He thinks that’s Scott.  
“Is Stiles ok?” Stiles can’t tell who that it, the voice echoing and muffled by a ringing in his ears.  
Stiles can’t talk, or even open his eyes but he hears most of what’s going on and he definitely feels the large amount of pain he’s in. Tears trickle down his cheeks that are smeared with blood. If he was awake he knew he would scream from how much it hurt, but right now he can just see the huge wave of pain coming in the distance, lurking in the shadows. Stiles shivers, even though he’s pretty warm. He goes up and down slowly because he guesses the person holding him is walking. Stop. He wants to say. Stop, it hurts. But he can’t.  
Stiles hears more and more footsteps come closer, and voices to match them.  
“Oh God look at him.”  
“Is he-”  
“No, he’s unconscious...still breathing.”  
“...so much blood…”  
“...he....hospital now.”  
Scott’s voice is strong and determined, like he doesn’t want to lose Stiles, “Come on, let’s get him out of here. I’m not letting him die.”  
There’s a pause and the walking stops. Stiles hears a bunch of people surrounding him and the person who’s holding him tightly...Derek?  
“Wait.” That was a low voice, not anyone in the pack.  
The strong arms holding him tensed, “Stay away from him.” Yep, Derek.  
“You’re not going to take Stiles,” Scott says firmly, “You want him? You go through us.”  
Stiles feels his heart flutter a little bit. His pack had saved him and now they’re protecting him, willing to die for him. Maybe they didn’t mean everything they had said.  
“We don’t want the boy. Our alpha was a fool. But we had to follow him because of the bonds. Those bonds are broken now and we will not stop you from leaving. Save your friend.” The voice was rough and harsh, and Stiles guessed it was one of the Fenrir.  
“Thank you.” That was Scott again.  
The walking continues and next thing Stiles knows he’s in a hospital bed and Scott’s mom is leaning over him, yelling something as she rolls him quickly down the hallway. And his dad is there, holding his bloodied hand and shouting something too. Stiles looks weakly behind him before the doors close and sees his pack, all of them, standing there, watching him, protecting him. 

Flashback:  
Scott angrily yanks his bonds again, but they just dig into his wrists. They won’t budge. Just then the door opens and 2 Fenrir drag someone out and throw him onto the ground. Scott’s heart stops. The boy’s eyes are shut and they blink. His face contorted with pain and he concentrates, trying to get to his knees. The Alpha behind him cruelly kicks him in the back with his boot and the boy slams into the ground again, letting out a cry of pain.  
“Stiles!” Scott says, his voice breaking, tears fill his eyes as he looks at his friend. He’s alive! Scott has never been so happy and horrified at the same time. Stiles raises his head and his unfocused gaze finally finds him. Scott almost sobs out loud. His best friend’s body is covered in blood and scrapes that look like claw marks. He’s got a black eye forming, a bloodied lip and eyebrow and fresh bruises all over his face. Scott yanks against his bonds again but he knows it won’t do any good. He’s afraid and angry, and helpless. Stiles tries to push himself up but fails, his arms trembling and he collapses back onto the ground with a groan of agony. Scott’s heart breaks.  
...  
The man spreads his hands wide, “This. Revenge. The Beast was my cub. And you killed him. His aura came to me, bleeding out, and I had to watch him die right in front of me. It’s time I repaid the favor.”  
Derek understands faster than Scott does and he shouts, “No!”  
The Alpha wouldn’t kill Stiles, would he? “Leave him alone!” Scott pleads, trying in vain to get the cords off his wrist that keep him from getting to his best friend.  
Stiles crawls away in fear as the man walks over.  
“Don’t touch him!” Scott roars.  
The man almost laughs at his request and completely disregards it, grabbing Stiles’ collar and pulling him up at an awful angle to his knees. Stiles chokes from the shirt cutting off his supply and coughs up blood. The man gets a grip on his chin and forces him to look at Scott, “Stiles look at your old friends. They betrayed you and now they’re going to watch you die.”  
"I'll kill you," Scott promises, beyond pissed, "I swear to God I'll kill you. Let him go."  
Stiles’ eyes widen at that and he struggles in the grip but the man curls his fingers in Stiles hair and tilts his head up, moving his hand from his chin to his neck. Scott feels like he’s going to throw up as he watches the Alpha’s claws pierce Stiles’ exposed throat. Blood trickles down his friend’s neck and Scott screams, “No! No no no no no! Stop! Please don’t! STILES!”  
The man sinks his claws further and a strangled scream is torn from Stiles’ throat. No. Scott wouldn’t let him kill his best friend. Scott roars, his eyes flashing, his senses dialed to 100 as he pulls as hard as he can at his bonds. They rip apart and he sprints toward the Alpha, tackling him before he can rip Stiles’ throat out. He hears his friends snarl behind him and out of the corner of his eye he sees them all helping each other get released. Derek was the first who had gotten out.  
Without anyone to hold him up, Stiles crumples to the ground behind him with a small moan of pain. Anger fuels Scott along with adrenaline and he slashes the alpha across the chest before launching him into the wall. 4 Fenrir approach, snarling on all fours. Scott, who is determined to keep them away from Stiles, steps between them and his best friend and growls back. Suddenly Derek is there. The 4 pounce and Scott and Derek meet them in a battle of claws and fangs. While slashing and flipping and kicking he vaguely sees Lydia run to Stiles’ side, trying to keep him awake.  
Everything is going well; Derek and Scott are actually winning. It’s Isaac’s scream of terror that stops Scott dead in his tracks and turn around in horror in the middle of the fight. The man has dragged a trembling and frightened Stiles in the middle of the circle, a large clawed hand encircling his friend’s windpipe. Lydia lays unconscious a few feet away. Scott’s heart drops and his vision tunnels. All he can see is Stiles, choking, grasping weakly at the hand that’s slowly killing him. His best friend’s face turns red and his eyes go wide, his mouth opening and closing for air that doesn’t come.  
“No. Wait,” Scott pleads. His growl isn’t threatening. It’s weak and scared. No, he can’t lose his best friend. Not Stiles.  
“Now you’ll finally know what it means to lose someone Scott,” The alpha cries angrily. The hand that’s already too tight just closes in around Stiles’ windpipe and Stiles thrashes in the grip. He’s dying. He’s dying, Scott sobs to himself. Stiles’ movements go sluggish and he stops kicking, his body going dangerously limp and his eyes rolling back into his head.  
“No!” Scott lunges forward but it’s Derek who appears out of nowhere behind the Alpha, bringing his clawed hand forward and slashing the man’s throat with one swipe and a roar.  
The man’s hand slowly loosens and Stiles falls to the ground, crumpled in a heap, but Scott can hear a faint heartbeat.  
...  
“Stiles!” Scott runs over as Derek picks Stiles and holds him against his chest. Stiles’ breathing is dangerously slow and ragged and he looks so small, weak, and limp in Derek’s arms.  
“Is Stiles ok?” Isaac cries, running over to form a blob around Derek and the dying boy. Scott watches as tears fall down Stiles’ cheeks, and his unconscious face is scrunched up in pain. He shivers but Scott sees he’s burning up.  
Boyd is next to arrive next to Derek and sucks in a gasp before saying softly, “Oh God look at him.”  
Erica’s right behind him, “Is he…” She doesn’t dare ask.  
Scott shakes his head, “No he’s unconscious. He’s still breathing. You can hear his heartbeat can’t you?”  
“Barely,” Jackson says grimly after helping Lydia to her feet and holding her up. There’s a cut on her head, but other than that she just looks dazed. She takes one look at Stiles and stumbles over, running a hand through his curly wet and messy hair, crying.  
Jackson looks like he’s going to be sick and he mutters, “Oh Scott, there’s so much blood.”  
“He needs to get to a hospital now,” Lydia cries, holding Stiles’ limp hand in hers.  
Scott isn’t going to lose Stiles. Not again, “Come on. Let’s get him out of here. I’m not letting him die.”  
They start to walk before the remaining Fenrir emerge from the shadows they had shrank back in when Derek killed the Alpha.  
One speaks, “Wait.”  
Derek tenses and snarls, his eyes gleaming, “Stay away from him.”  
“You’re not going to take Stiles,” Scott says threateningly, “You want him?” Scott narrows his eyes, “You go through us,” He says firmly. The pack makes a circle around Derek and Stiles. Scott is ready to die for his best friend who has already done so much for the people that had hurt him.  
The Fenrir shakes his head and bows slightly, a sign of surrender, “We don’t want the boy. Our alpha was a fool. But we had to follow him because of the bonds. Those bonds are broken now. And we will not stop you from leaving.” The Fenrir looks at Stiles and Scott senses a bit of pity as he says, “Save your friend.”  
“Thank you,” Scott says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They have to get him to the hospital fast don't they? Yikes...  
> Well I hope you all enjoyed! Stay tuned! Thanks for reading!


	9. When it becomes relevant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good stories have to come to an end...sadly...:( and this is the last chapter. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, I loved writing it for you guys <3  
> I'm working on a supernatural fanfic at the moment so feel free to check that out when I post it or my marvel one which is getting rly good reviews as well.  
> But enjoy a heartfelt recovery chapter with friendships mended, and a cliffhanger ending that allows me to possibly continue this story????? Or make a spin off??? We'll see. I am so happy you all enjoyed it and if I have a sudden inspiration to continue this I definitely will so make sure to bookmark this and get alerts if i do.  
> Lastly thank you thank you thank you you all are amazing <3

“Mom!” Scott screams. It’s been too long. A 30 minute drive was too long. Stiles was dying. He was fading.  
“Mom!” Scott screams again, almost sobbing. Derek is covered in Stiles’ blood and all of the pack members are doing their best to keep their stripped clothing pressed against the worst of the wounds. Melissa comes rushing around the corner with Sheriff Stilinski who almost collapses at the sight of his son.  
“Stiles?” He screams, “Stiles!”  
Derek lays Stiles on an emergency bed and nurses come rushing over to shove an oxygen mask on him. Stiles still isn’t conscious and Scott can hear his friend’s heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. The Sheriff grabs his son’s hand as they roll the bed down the hall, mimicking Melissa’s cries of, “Stay with us Stiles. Stiles, you’re going to be ok. Just stay with me son, please...I can’t lose you…”  
The doors shut and Scott watches the bed with his best friend on it, bleeding out, turn the corner and go out of sight. 

5 minutes later, Scott is sitting in the waiting room, trying to locate his best friend’s heartbeat when Peter rushes in, breathing hard, holding a tube full of dark swirling- liquid gas?  
“Where’s Stiles?” He demands.  
Malia points sadly but Scott realizes Peter was never told Stiles was here, or that he was Mischief. He knits his eyebrows, “How do you know-”  
Peter ignores him and the nurses that try and hold him back as he runs down the hall and finds the room. Scott follows him and sees him shove the thing into the Sheriff’s hands gasping.  
“It will save him.”  
Peter is shoved out by the main surgeon but the Sheriff nods through the window and Peter takes a deep breath before walking back to the waiting room.  
“What the heck was that about?” Scott asks, “And how did you know that was Stiles?”  
“There’s a lot you don’t know kid. But right now it’s not about you. It’s about Stiles, who’s about to die. So how about we hold off on this conversation,” Peter says angrily.  
Scott is surprised. He didn’t know Peter and Stiles were close. But then again, Scott had been the one to kick Stiles out, so what did he know about his best friend’s life after that?  
Scott didn’t care how mad Stiles was or if he hated him, or if he never saw him again after he woke up. Scott just wanted him to wake up. 

Stiles could hear his heartbeat. It was so faint. He just wanted to see his dad again, see Lydia again, and Isaac. And then, Stiles realized, he wanted to see all of them again. Scott, his best friend, Erica and Boyd, who were like his annoying cousins, Malia, his sister, Derek and Parish, the older brothers he never had, Peter, basically his uncle, even jerk Jackson.  
And then Stiles heard his heartbeat get louder. 

1 WEEK LATER

Stiles was going to be released from the hospital in 30 minutes. Peter had just come in and was sitting in a chair across from Stiles’ hospital bed.  
“Thanks again Peter. You saved my life,” Stiles said gratefully. Right now he was just happy he was alive.  
“Hey I wasn’t the only one,” Peter said, but he still puffed up his chest and smiled a little, “And you’re lucky I have a fast car.”  
“Yeah,” Stiles chuckled. Then he looked at Peter, “Did any of them come…”  
Peter smiled slightly, “They took shifts. Scott was here the most. He practically slept in that chair. Lydia had a concussion but she came when she could. Derek and Isaac were here as well. And the others from time to time. But they stopped coming yesterday. They weren’t sure if they were the ones you wanted to see when you woke up.”  
Stiles blinked, “I did,” he said softly. He looked up, widening his eyes, “I need to see them. I need to go now.”  
Stiles swung his legs off the bed and lunged for the door, stumbling down the hallway before Peter could stop him. He found his dad in the waiting room, talking with Melissa and held out his hand as he walked briskly to the door, limping slightly, but even that was going away, “Keys dad, please. Love you,”  
Out of habit his dad threw him the keys to his Jeep and looked back at Melissa, but she was staring at him with wide eyes and his dad blinked, shaking his head really fast and jumped up, “Stiles!”  
Stiles was already out the door and in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. It’s a wonder he didn’t crash the dang thing on the way to Hale House. When he got there, he stopped the car right in front of the house and honked really loud for a good 10 seconds before getting out of the car and staggering to the porch rail. Stiles was breathing hard, tears in his eyes, emotions slamming into each other inside his heart. The door opened before Stiles was even all the way up the steps. It was Scott.  
“Hi,” Stiles said in a broken voice.  
“Stiles?” Scott asked weakly.  
Stiles nodded, falling forward a bit once he made it up the stairs, “Hi bro-”  
Scott caught Stiles in his arms and held him. They stared at each other for a while, Scott’s strong arms supporting Stiles as he held him at arm’s length. And then Scott pulled him forward and hugged him hard. Stiles hugged him back, wishing he didn’t have to let go. Scott was mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  
Stiles was shaking his head, “It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok.”  
He clapped Scott on the back and gave him a tight squeeze before they pulled apart. Scott put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder before they both broke again and went in for another hug. Stiles gripped his best friend tightly, and a smile came to his face when he realized he had his brother back.  
The door opened and Lydia came out next, with tears in her eyes. Stiles broke away from Scott and surged for her, smiling against the kiss he planted firmly on her lips. Stiles smiled, moving strawberry blonde hair away from her face and looking into her green eyes.  
“Hi,” he said happily.  
“Hi,” she smiled.  
Stiles looked up, his gaze falling on Derek who stared at him, afraid to say anything. Stiles pursed his lips, but the anger was long gone, melted away by now and he smiled, “Hey sourwolf. Why so serious?”  
Derek let out a low laugh, the sides of his mouth turning up.  
“Was that a smile?” Stiles grinned. He hugged Derek tightly, and felt his strong arms wrap around his back.  
“I’m sorry Stiles,” Derek said shamefully.  
Stiles nodded, “I know.”  
Isaac bounded out, tearing him away from Derek and hugging Stiles hard, almost lifting him off his feet because of his super strength. Stiles laughed and grinned. Malia grabbed his shoulder and turned him into her own hug. Stiles got a mouthful of hair but he didn’t mind. When they pulled apart, Erica and Boyd both gave him a hug and an apology. Then lastly, Stiles turned to Jackson who was standing there and looking quite happy to see him for once.  
But typical Jackson didn’t go for the hug. Instead he held out his hand, “Stilinski.”  
“Whitmore,” Stiles grinned and shook it, before they clapped each other on the back.  
The pack closed in on him and Stiles felt a million arms wrap around him. Sniffles came from just about everyone. Even Jackson teared up, and when he caught Stiles looking at him with a raised eyebrow he shook his head and mouthed, screw you jerk.  
“I’m glad you guys are ok,” Stiles said his voice slightly muffled from the group hug, “My um...my powers are gone. So I’m...I’m just human now.”  
He couldn’t hide the twinge of sadness and disappointment in his tone.  
“You’re pack Stiles,” Scott said, “I don’t care what you are. You’re my brother, and my best friend. And you’ll always be that. I promise.”  
Stiles choked on a sob and he hugged his pack tight, pecking Lydia on the lips again.  
This was his pack. This was his family. He was Stiles Stilinski, the human who ran with wolves. “Just promise me you will never try and protect me again,” Stiles laughed.  
“Deal,” Scott promised. 

 

1 Month Later

Stiles is lounged on the couch. He sighs and drapes his arm around Lydia who’s next to him, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.  
“Yo Stiles can you turn on the light?” Scott calls from the other room.  
“Yeah,” Stiles nods, and then looks at Lydia and grins. Hey, why not?  
He flicks his hand and the switch halfway across the room goes up, turning on the light in the other room for his best friend.  
Lydia’s eyes widen and then her shocked expression slowly turns into a smile. She cocks her head and whispers, “Stiles!’  
“Yes?” He asks innocently.  
She kisses him laughing and then whispers, “When are you going to tell them?”  
Stiles smirks, “When it becomes relevant.”  
“Thanks bro!” Scott calls.  
Stiles grins, “Don’t mention it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading <3  
> Feel free to keep my account in the back of your mind and checkout my other fics- there are plenty more to come and I really want to write another teen wolf one.  
> Thank you all so much and have an amazing dayyyyyy <3 <3  
> :)


End file.
